Life Saving Measures
by sarahyellow
Summary: Justin is rendered hopelessly comatose after yet another life-altering accident. Doctors are forced to act drastically to save him. With his lover's damaged memory, strange new social circle, and downright bizarre biological changes to contend with, will Brian be able to bring them back to what they once had? Will Justin even want it?
1. Chapter 1

In a stark painter's studio in Pittsburg at half-past four, Blue eyes were squinted down at the half-finished form of a canvas sketch. Justin Taylor, the man to whom the squint belonged, was considering his next move. Chalk in hand, he shifted forward decidedly for his next mark. But just as he was to make contact with the canvas, his hand seized up.

"Fuck!"

The utterance was perhaps not as annoyed as it might have been in a similar situation, months or even a year ago. Being bashed to the point of brain injury had been awful, but the young artist had eventually come to terms with his injuries, and how they affected his life. Tremors and spasms would come and go, but a canvas could sit in his studio for months, if it had to. If anything had taught Justin patience in his adult life, it had been meeting Lindsay's paraplegic friend.

A quick glance to the far left wall of his studio brought a clouded blue painting into the artist's view. The substantial gift could've been hung anywhere; Justin's apartment, Brian's loft, hell he'd even considered sending it over to grace the Liberty diner's walls. But in the end Justin had decided to keep it right there in the cold industrial room that he still bothered to rent for his workspace. The wheelchair-bound woman had spent eight whole months laboring on just that one painting, never quitting or losing her vision for the piece. It was a good reminder for Justin to keep on trying no matter what, and the blond man currently regarded it for that very purpose, as he patiently flexed and rubbed at the tendons of his hand.

"Fucking gimp hand," he muttered, scolding his limb as if it were a petulant child. The canvas he was sketching on now would merely be an outline for a larger project, but it was important to him none the less. After Stockwell had been defeated in Pittsburg's Mayoral election, later candidates for various local offices had gotten word of Justin's posters. Back then, they had been a form of protest to the young man, even gotten the one he loved into quite a bit of trouble. But now people wanted to pay him for his services. He had a bold talent for conceptualizing and conveying strong messages about people and their platforms. Or at least that's what they'd told him when he'd agreed to produce the artwork for several new political campaigns. The men (and one woman) who'd wanted Justin's help had been pro-gay, liberal types, which was of course why he'd agreed to the projects in the first place.

Well, that and the money. This particular project would hopefully gain him a sizeable commission from the PR department of the city council, an account that he knew for a fact he had competition for. The reality that he—a lone artist—was competing against established advertising firms was quite a boon for the young talent. Due to some very lucky and very flattering exposure in the media, making a living wasn't as hard for Justin Taylor as it could have been. But big corporate projects were always helpful in putting a little extra padding into his bank account. Smirking to himself, Justin knew that Brian wouldn't be quite so thrilled to know just which corporate clients he was courting.

Quitting art school was no longer a regret to the artist, his new career having flourished just enough to be busy. But busy as he was, due to the late afternoon hour and to his spazzed-out hand, Justin made the decision to stop for the day. Placing the chalk piece he'd been using aside, he walked over to the wall of big windows—the room's main attractive feature—and pulled a flavored water from the mini fridge he'd installed there.

Smiling ruefully, he pulled the cap off his drink and thought of Brian. He was the one who'd finally gotten Justin to give up sodas in favor of zero-calorie vitamin water. Of course, Brian was always in favor of low-calorie things. That was also why the artist's mini fridge was full to bursting with green apples. Like so many little things in his life, it was all because of Brian. Walking thoughtfully over to the beaten up couch he kept in the studio for moments just such as this, Justin sunk into its inviting cushions and caught the gaze of the easel nearest by. It held his most recent depiction of the man with whom he'd been obsessed since he was seventeen.

A quarter profile of Brian's face stared back out at him from the paper, nowhere near completed. It was a rendering in oil pastels—a medium in which the blond rarely chose to work—and for that it would turn out to have less of a literal feel and more of an idealized, dream-like quality to it. …Once it was ever finished, that was. Justin had never been stuck with a work of art for so long before, not even due to his hand. No, staring obstinately at his very blurry boyfriend, Justin knew that this hang-up spawned from somewhere else, but the hell if he knew how to get back on track with the project. Besides, this one was just for fun; he'd never sell it.

Justin drank his water and wondered whether it would creep his older lover out, to know just how many drawings and paintings he'd been the subject of since their first meeting years ago. The artist himself had pretty much lost count. "The face of God," as he'd once referred to it, was a subject that begged to be rendered in art, and Justin had obliged dozens, maybe hundreds of times. Yeah he thought, obsessive was probably a good word for his feelings about the other man. "Brian, Brian," he mused solemnly at the easel, "Why can't I remember you?" Of course, what the young man meant was in reference to his original vision for the drawing. Not being able to finish the thing was insanely frustrating; like waking up from a dream that one could almost, but just not quite, remember.

Drawing him out of his contemplative state, the peppy tones of Katy Perry's _Hot 'N Cold_ emanated from Justin's cellphone, making him smile. He'd recently updated his boyfriend's ringtone to a tune that more aptly described him. He quickly tapped the screen, accepting the call. "You know," Justin greeted happily into the phone, "I was just thinking about you."

On the other end of the line, Brian could be heard typing, so the younger of the duo figured his obsession to still be at work. "Does that make me your muse?" he quipped.

From the couch, Justin gave a heavy-lidded glance back to the oil pastel version of said man. "You have no idea."

"Nice to know I'm on your thoughts," Brian replied distractedly. "Hey, I'm in a rush to finish some things up here. _Some _people don't seem to understand that Friday means ditching work at three-thirty, and thus I have a four o'clock meeting."

"Who's 'some people'?"

"The campaign manager for this goody do-all politician Howard Van Dorn."

Justin bit his lip at the name. Oh no. Was Brian trying to get the same gig with Van Dorn as he was? Somehow, the thought both scared and amused him. A little competition never hurt anyone. The blond grinned. If he won, it would bruise Brian's ego. Badly. "Sounds like big business. You must be very busy."

"Yeah."

"So why'd you call me in the first place?"

A huff crackled over the line, which the blond interpreted as one of Brian's low chuckles. "Because," Brian simpered, "A very special boy is celebrating his birthday today, and he was in too big of a hurry this morning to decide what he wanted for his big day. Now, how old is the kiddo today?"

"I'd say eight, based on that awful fake voice you're using," Justin winced. "Cut it out. Like it's not creepy enough already how old you are, pervert." The last utterance was heavily colored with the highest degree of fondness. The twelve year age difference between the two men had long ago become familiar fodder for both jokes and sweet nothings.

Dropping the infantilizing tone, Brian asked, "Seriously though: you only turn twenty one once. What do you want for your birthday? And you are coming to Babylon tonight."

"I'll pretend that last was a question," Justin frowned. "Yes, I'll see you at Babylon tonight. And as to my gift; I really hadn't thought about it."

"Really?" Brian sounded unconvinced.

"Yes, really."

That was a big fat lie, because really, he had thought about it. Anything the slightest bit romantic, from Brian, would have made the most perfect birthday gift the blond could hope for. But it was more than he could hope for and he knew it. Wedding rings and matching tuxes were nice in theory, but such gestures just weren't the older man's style, nor in his comfort zone. Justin knew that Brian downright loved him any day of the week, but the fact was that he'd only heard it uttered verbatim one time. And having the man's affections was the more important thing anyways.

Smiling into the phone again, Justin offered, "You can get me anything. Flowers or an iPad would be nice. But Brian: NOT a twinkie trick, okay?" The darker-haired man had been known to think along more lascivious lines when it came to the gift-giving process.

"How about a brutal beefy one then?"

"No tricks," Justin reiterated, trying and failing to maintain his tone of admonishment. "Besides, it's my twenty first birthday tonight. After I get appropriately drunk and dizzy at Babylon, the only guy I'm going to want to take home and fuck is you."

"Sounds like a plan. See you at ten, hot stuff."

"Ugh, don't call me that."

His phone call ended, Brian smirked at the thought of the birthday fuck Justin had coming his way. Heat swept through him at the thought of all the things he could do. Oh my, what to do indeed. With the exception of perhaps his parenting skills, Brian Kinney had no problems with confidence in any area of his life, _especially_ when it came to sex. As far as the promiscuous ad exec was concerned, he gave it better than most, and was on par with all the rest. Oh yes, the coming evening at Babylon, and later, would be one to enjoy.

Fantasizing in the pristine space of his office, Brian had to admit that he sometimes felt uncommonly bereft of Justin at work. Kinnetic, as a company and as a building, was an extension of Brian himself: powerful, stylish, and cold. The metal, glass, and Italian leather furniture suited Brian just fine most of the time. It had only been since last Christmas, that he'd added a single trace of Justin to the space.

Glancing down to the corner of his sleek desktop, the dark-haired man regarded Justin's picture with uncharacteristic warmth in his eyes. The painted wooden box clashed atrociously with the sophisticated décor everywhere else, but like the little fucker himself, Justin's picture frame had wormed its way into a place that it never should have gotten. The frame contained a single snapshot of the younger man. It was nothing special; some sloppily taken picture of Justin sitting in Michael and Ben's living room. But Brian kept it in the frame, on his desk, allowing it to interrupt the pristine sight lines of Kinnetic's décor, because of the hundred-watt smile that split Justin's face in the picture. It was why Debbie always called the kid Sunshine. And Brian had found that, despite everything, the accomplishment of making that particular smile appear on the younger man's face was quickly becoming his favorite thing in the world.

Well, at least except for fucking, that was. Brain's thoughts began to harken back to his earlier contemplation of birthday sex, and just what activities he'd be getting up to that very night. If tricks wrapped up in red bows were out as a gift option, were sex toys as well? But a knock on the glass of his office door interrupted those thoughts, pulling him back to the reality of the last hour of his work day.

The man who entered his office was tall and well-groomed. He looked like he'd maybe been hot stuff in college, but had let himself slip a little since then. Walter Frey's suit was definitely too tight around the middle. Brian concluded right away that he never would have fucked him. The cute nerdy aide by his side however… could have been a possibility. Unfortunately, the ad exec had a birthday fuck to dole out, but if he did land this account—and he did plan to—there would always be time for that later. Brian stood with his most pleasant nod of greeting, inclining his head politely. "Please, feel free to sit."

The campaign manager, Mr. Frey, smiled tightly. "Thank you Mr. Kinney, but we are actually on quite a tight schedule, so if this can be a brief meeting, that would suit us."

Brian might have restrained a small frown, instead sending out his most nonchalant smile. "Of course, I'd prefer that as well. So tell me: what did you think of our art department's pitch this afternoon?"

"It was quite the pitch. You've got good talent here, I'll say that much."

Brian squinted, canting his head, "I get the feeling there's more you'll say?"

"We've seen better work, better concepts for what we want." Frey shrugged, holding out his hands placatingly, "You've got to understand that we'd shop around."

"Of course." Now Brian was very much restraining a frown. "But I know my employees. More importantly I know me. I don't know where else you've 'shopped around,' but I do know that every other firm in town is old school. And if there's one thing your boss doesn't want, it's to be perceived as some crusty old politician. Kinnetic turns out results. If I'm not mistaken, politicians are generally in the business of getting… results."

The man before Brian seemed not to be offended, but rather impressed by the dark-haired man's impassioned speech. Brian Kinney's reputation had indeed preceded him, but he also lived up to it. It was almost a shame then, that he'd already made up his mind. "Right, and we do appreciate your time and your employees' effort at such a novel approach. Perhaps in the future we can work together, but for now we've decided to go elsewhere. I'm sure you can understand."

God damn it. Brian felt the edge of his desk cutting harshly into his palms before he'd even realized how tightly he was gripping it. If fucking Gardner Vance had scooped up Van Dorn's account before Kinnetic, it was really going to piss Brian off. Sure that his displeasure at the announcement had been appropriately contained, the outwardly-composed man queried, "Well that's too bad Walter. I have to wonder though: what amazing talent have you come across that has you so fascinated?"

The answer that Frey offered was frank, and probably the last thing that Brian had ever expected to hear. "I see," he said, not so sure anymore whether he was projecting a composed demeanor. "Well that's a real shame. I know we could've done you one better. But Cynthia will see you out."

The two men left graciously, and Brian didn't waste time in growling out his frustration once the office doors were closed. That. Little. Fucker. Justin had gotten his hands into politics.

"Block!"

"Ah!"

"There goes your eyeball. Now I've only got one more to go till you're blind. Work on that right arm Taylor. You're letting me right in."

"Got it. Let me duck out for a second."

The man teaching the class nodded, turning to the next man waiting for a fight, and Justin took his moment to walk away to the side of the expansive room. Plucking the guard from his teeth, he was quick to grab a towel and press it to his forehead. Jeeze, the blond thought, winded; was he off his game tonight or was Kai really that much better than usual?

After work Justin had headed to the not-so-gentrified east side of the city where he took Krav Maga classes twice a week. The workouts were always intense: so intense that he sometimes left bruised and/or bleeding. But to the blond, it was well worth it. After having faced an attack that left him helpless in so many ways, Justin had resolved never to feel defenseless again. Being on the mat with his teacher gave him power. And that was intoxicating enough to drown out the pain from his injuries.

That night, Justin was learning that no reprieve was given to anyone based on the merit of their birth date. An especially brutal class had now left him sweaty and a little bloody, but in an exceptionally good mood. As he sat to the side and gulped his water, he suddenly remembered that he was turning twenty one, and would soon see Brian and the guys to celebrate. With all of the endorphins rushing through his system, suddenly the upcoming evening seemed much more exciting. Justin's mind began to wander to all of the great birthday sex he would most definitely be getting. That wasn't to say that he and Brian didn't always have great sex—because they did—but still, birthdays were always extra special. Brian had a way of seeing to that. The class instructor, Kai, came over to join him just as a smile had split his face.

"What's so funny?" Kai asked with a grin of his own.

Justin shrugged apologetically, still catching his breath from the last hour of training. "Funny? Nothing. Was I laughing?"

"No, but you sure look pleased about something."

Justin simply smiled at the other man, refraining from commenting on just what hot piece of ass he _had_ been thinking about. Justin liked Kai. He was a young, down-to-earth type of guy Asian guy with the absolute coolest hair style. Straight, but with no bones to pick regarding his student's orientation. He treated the blond the same as everyone else. Justin liked that about him. From the very beginning, Kai had seen to it that nobody ever tried to act like Justin was the bashed little fag who'd come to learn some moves (which was, in reality, how he'd felt when he'd first walked in the doors). And now, two years later, the blond knew that he was quite an accomplished fighter. Maybe not as good as Kai himself, but getting better every month. It was something that the artist took great pride in.

Sometimes, Justin wondered if Cody would have approved. Maybe the angry man would have turned out differently if he'd chosen to learn some sort of disciplined violence… Sighing, Justin shook his head. Water that'd beaded along his hairline flew away, and he stood. "Really good class Kai, but you kicked my ass out there." Well, more like his forehead, if he was being literal… "How's my face?"

"Ah it looks fine now. Your throws are spot-on tonight. You know you're one of my better students now."

"Think I could take you?"

The other man looked taken aback, but considerate. "You know. Just maybe. You could certainly start teaching, if you go much farther."

Justin grinned. "Cool." After all, he hadn't gotten a tattoo—the symbol for the discipline—for nothing. Its black lines inked the skin of his inner forearm. Ruefully, he thought that he still had to try and get Brian to stop being upset about that.

"See you next class?"

Justin nodded. "Yeah. I have to head out early though. It is a Friday after all," he said apologetically.

Seemingly understanding, the other man hummed. "Ah yes, Friday. Babylon waits."

"As always."

"You know I should trail after you one day. The way you guys flock to that place, there must be something to it."

Justin just rolled his eyes. Gathering his backpack to leave, he responded, "Yeah, endless juicy man-ass. Come along sometime, if you're interested."

"On second thought, I'll leave the fun to you. Happy birthday Justin."

"Thanks!"

"Where's Justin tonight?"

"Yeah, why does the birthday boy not grace us with his presence? He must do _something_ to keep that body taught—"

"And toned," Emmett added.

" Tight."

"Firm..." Both men trailed off, their meaning clear.

A withering look was sent over to Ted and Emmett from where Brian was poised on the elliptical. "He prefers to get his cardio kicked out of him these days."

"Still doing the Karate thing?" Emmett asked.

"Krav Maga."

Honeycut waved a dismissive hand at Ted, "Oh whatever it's called. Break dance fighting, kung fu." Looking to Brian, he warned, "You know you should make him stop, sweetie. That's no good."

Brian rolled his eyes. "You think I haven't tried? The little twat's made up his mind to do it. He's probably a fucking black belt by now."

"Um Bri, I don't think they give out belts—" Another unpleasant look from his domineering friend had Ted sealing his lips.

"I want you all at Babylon tonight. Justin's got his surprise party and by some miracle, none of you have blown it yet." Hopping off the cardio equipment, Brian grabbed his towel. "And DON'T answer your phones if he calls you before then." Why the hell he would, Brian couldn't imagine, but he'd gone through too much trouble to make tonight special for any of his dimwit friends to fuck it up.

"Hey, we can keep a secret, you know!" this protest, from Emmett.

The queen received an arched brow from Brian. "Tell that to Michael." Emmett blushed and hopped off of his own elliptical, huffing away. The departure having cleared a line of sight to the free weights area, Brian's gaze settled on a very interesting specimen. "Well would you look at that?" He said to no one in particular. Sweat towel unceremoniously tossed at Ted, the dark-haired man made his way across the room to where a nicely-built Latino was currently doing handstand pushups by the wall.

"Hey," Brian greeted.

Dark brown eyes slid over to meet hazel ones. "Hey."

"You know, I'm not usually the type of fag to go around the gym complaining, but you're being an awful showoff over here. Someone might get… bothered"

The other man grimaced, what Brian estimated to be an upside down smile of exertion. "Yeah?"

"Hm," Brian said stridently, "You don't talk much." Crouching before the darker man, he canted his head to mimic the other man's upside down posture. "I can do a pretty nice handstand too you know."

"Really?"

"I'm a regular ath-e-lete."

The fit man sunk down and rose back up in another push-up, his heels tapping the wall for balance. "I'd like to see that."

"Oh, I'd be happy to give a demonstration of my physical aptitude." Mentally, Brian calculated that he definitely had enough time for a quickie in the locker room. "My handstands are the least of my abilities."

"You've got that right." A hand wrapped itself around the fabric of Brian's racerback, pulling him upright. Ted's voice sounded again to address the handsome Latino man, "His handstands suck. Excuse us."

The accountant didn't get very far with bullying Brian Kinney away from his conquest. The taller man jerked angrily away as they tracked into the locker room. "What the hell's up with you, Schmidt? I was going to fuck that guy upside down!"

"I think you should be more careful who you offer to do acrobatics with, Lothario."

"I didn't see anyone better out there. He was hot," Brian grumped.

"Yeah well he was also a vampire."

Stripping off his gym shorts, Brian paused. "_What_?"

"A Vamp—"

"No yeah, I heard what you said," Brian bristled. "He wasn't. No way."

"If you could think with anything besides your cock, you might have noticed."

Scoffing, the dark-haired man went off into the showers. Okay, so maybe missing something that big was a little bad, even for him. Whatever, he thought. What harm was a little fang-banging anyways. Better vampirism than chlamydia, or HIV. The former you couldn't catch fucking. Or at least… he was pretty sure you couldn't.

"A queer vampire," Brian mused. "Now there's a novelty." In the tiny tiled box of a shower, he reached for the spigot, turning the handle to hot and releasing a torrent of steaming water. "I'll have to tell Justin about that one."


	2. Chapter 2

The music from within the interior of _Babylon_ was thumping away as usual when Justin walked up to the street entrance. The bouncer posted outside immediately afforded him a polite nod, "Mr. Taylor," as well as a cut right past the line of waiting patrons. The young blonde ignored the irritated mumbles that sounded as he was let right in. Such were the perks of dating the owner of a night club. Everything seemed pretty much as usual, so nothing dawned on the artist until after he'd passed the coat check and entrance area. Swiping the two-story chain curtain out of his way, Justin froze in place at the onslaught of sudden cheers.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

"Oh boy," the young man muttered to himself, as the general roar of jovial shouts continued. Thank god he'd changed into something nice.

Brian had done it.

That was the first thought that flew through his head. The thought of the older man putting such effort into a day that, in years previous, he'd expressed nothing but disdain for, put a wide smile onto his face. Before he could even take in all that he was seeing, an arm wrapped around and pulled the smaller man into what he immediately knew was the strong form of his lover. From behind, Brian looked out with him at the mass of assembled guests.

"Hey boy wonder."

"Uh, hi. What is this?"

Brian huffed warm breath against his cheek, one arm holding Justin, while the other managed a flute full of champagne. "Don't ask stupid questions. Here," the dark-haired man's hand shot out to grab a second glass from a passing waiter—yes, _waiter_—and hand it to his companion. "I'd like to make a toast!" Brian yelled, bringing further attention from all those in the room to focus down on the pair. "To Justin Taylor, whom some of you might call Sunshine," at this, an excited blur of red hair could be seen off to the side, from whom a happy hoot emanated. "Yes Debbie, thank you. He's smart, he's talented, and not to mention fucking hot!"

More cheers and a few agreeing whistles sounded at this, and Justin elbowed Brian as best he could with the glass in his hand. "Brian," he hissed in embarrassment. One of the whistles had definitely come from Melanie, whom he could see standing in the crowd. Jeeze, he hadn't been aware that he knew enough people to fill Babylon, let alone pack it. Hmm, what were the chances that some of the fillers were Brian's ex-fucks? Now with his chin propped against Justin's shoulder, Brian was continuing,

"He's twenty one this year kiddies, can you believe it! And so very accomplished. I don't know if you've seen this guy's work, but he's a fucking amazing artist!" Brian bragged loudly, the whole room clapping along. "I think that more than anyone we know, Justin is determined. In whatever he does. He worked hard to get where he is. With us too. Everybody here probably has a memory of when he's helped you out, or at least bothered you enough until you told him what was wrong." Justin shook his head in bemusement as the speech went on. Somehow, Brian always managed to make his toasts sound as if he were both mocking _and_ praising you. Justin's blue eyes shot down sheepishly to his front, attention diverted by the fingers he felt moving against the fabric of his sweater. Was Brian _trying _to flick his nipple ring

Sobering, Brian had allowed his hand to splay out on the younger man's chest. "But that's his way. So selfless. So kind. So obnoxiously good-willed. I personally, can think of _several _ways in which he's helped me out."

"Please don't veer into the inappropriate," Justin mumbled back at his boyfriend, who had by now ignored the room to fix their gazes on one another.

"All joking aside folks, I have only this to say, and I'm sure you can all agree with me: Mr. Taylor is one of a kind. We didn't expect him to show up, or to stay. But he did. And he's irrevocably… ours."

Applause and chatter came out at the end of Brian's words, the loud music picking back up, but it was clear to Justin that the last line of said speech held a more personal meaning. Something in his chest constricted a little, at the sincere look he got from his boyfriend just then. _Irrevocably ours_. Brian had said it, and Justin impulsively thought of wedding rings and matching tuxes. Who said he couldn't eke a little romance out of the guy? Grinning triumphantly, Justin allowed himself to both be held against Brian's front, and guided further into the club. Everyone they passed wished Justin a happy birthday, and Brian clinked their champagne flutes together from behind. "A toast for a very happy birthday."

Justin beamed at him.

"And for stealing my account, you little fucker."

The smile slid right off of the young man's face. "Oh. They picked me?" Suddenly, the smile slid right back on. "They picked me. Cool!"

"Well I'm glad you think it's so 'kewl'," Brian mocked, still pushing Justin along in a slow shuffle, "because that account would have gained me a very valuable connection. Van Dorn has his hands in a lot of pockets."

Despite his boyfriend's tone, Justin could tell that this was no spat. Sometimes Brian just had to be pissed about something. And after having committed such an uncharacteristically sweet sentiment, Justin was sure this was the older man's way of self-soothing. "I didn't purposefully go after your business, you know." They approached the edge of the bar, Justin's back to it while Brian crowded in.

"Even if you did, it's not as if I can spank you for it, on your birthday."

Justin's lips canted up in a smirk, "Or… you could. Isn't that some sort of tradition?"

"Oh ho. Don't tell me you've been waiting for your twenty one smacks?"

"Twenty one?!" Justin choked a little on his sip of champagne. "Jesus."

"Oh come on now," Brian purred, "Don't think you can take it?"

"Oh, I think it's been well established that I can take it."

Brian's eyes burned down at the younger man. Fuck parties! Why had he thought this was a good idea? He should have his hot blonde little piece of ass screaming against his mattress by now. "I'll put that to the test," he countered, before his features rapidly clouded over, and not in a good way. Justin had moved his head into the light just enough to cast glaring relief onto something that, until now, had gone unnoticed. "What the fuck happened to your face?"

"Oh," Justin blushed, taking a steeling gulp of his drink. "That." He'd had to use tape to close the cut above his eyebrow.

"Yeah, _that_." Now Brian did look angry.

"You know… Kai and stuff," Justin offered in meek explanation. He knew how little his boyfriend cared for his workout habits. "It's no big deal."

"No big deal? It looks like he kicked your face in!"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not even bruised, Brian."

"Yet." The older man frowned. He knew the colors with which he'd become so familiar would likely blossom across his lover's face before they'd even left the party. "You're cut."

"I wasn't guarding on the right. He got a good jab in."

"I'll fucking jab HIM."

Justin sighed. "Let's talk about this later, please? I want to enjoy my party." For all their consternation, they hurriedly rid it from their faces as both men noticed the rapid approach of their friends.

"Happy Birthday Justin!"

"Oh look, your fan club's arrived," Brian simpered, as he was systematically pushed to the side by Melanie, Emmett, Michael, and Ben.

"Happy birthday sweetie!" Emmett said first, coming forward for a fast and hard hug.

Justin puffed a breath out at the tickle of faux fur jacket against his nose. "Thanks Emmett."

"Look at you, twenty one. I can't believe it," Michael was saying with a bemused smile. "One of the gang, who would have thought."

Justin knew Michael probably meant that he couldn't believe Justin had lasted this long, being that he was connected to the social circle through Brian. But he also knew that his lover's best friend had warmed to him substantially in the past few years, so it was easy to return the warm greeting, "Thanks Michael."

"God, I remember when I'd just turned twenty one." Ben shook his head in apparently fond remembrance. "Twenty one's a great year," he said, sagely. "Farther and farther away from being a kid."

"Yeah you're legal for _everything _now," Brian crooned.

Frowning in disapproval, Melanie pointed out, "As if that ever stopped you."

"What can I say? He was hot before his time."

The music in the room picked up, switching over to an electric rhythm that instantly had Emmett jumping up and flutter-clapping. "Oh I LOVE this song! Wanna dance, birthday boy?"

"No way!" Brian exclaimed, dumping both his and Justin's glasses on the bar behind them. "See you losers later." Placing conspiratorial hands at his now-legal lover's waist, the dark-haired man shuffled them out towards the dance floor. "Guy you fuck most gets the first dance," he offered once they were separated from the others.

"Oh, how romantic," was Justin's uncaring reply. He was completely enamored with the man holding onto him at the moment. "You didn't have to do this, you know." The young artist hadn't missed how elaborately the club was done up that night. Brian had dropped some serious cash on it.

"But it's what you wanted," Brian persisted, and something about the look in his eyes said that he desperately wanted to see that it had all been worth it. That he'd made Justin happy. But he didn't say it. He never would.

"Yes," Justin laughed. "Alright? Yes. I wanted you to give a shit."

"And?" Strong arms pulled their bodies closer together.

"Brian Kinney gives a shit," Justin finished, softer now that their proximity was as such.

Brian's hazel eyes swam in satisfaction and something else that was just this side of undetectable, staring at the man in his arms for a full minute. But he never ceded the point. Instead he uttered the simplest of commands, "Dance with me." The order, given in one of Brian's deeper, more gravelly tones, spurred an instinctive response within the younger of the pair. _Do what the sexy Top wants_, that voice said. Justin let his hips be pulled into the rhythm of Brian's motions, the world of the club around them fading away just a little bit more. Brian silkily produced a small packet from somewhere on his person, holding it up between them. Before Justin knew it, he was being offered a very _special_ kiss. The blonde opened his mouth and Brian immediately swiped in, tongue invading and taking and Justin accepting all that he had to give. The E was hardly noticed as it disappeared into his system. With his hands running over the skin of the larger man's shoulders, Justin felt a thrill of excitement run through him at the thought of how incredibly hot he already was for this man in his arms, and how much hotter they'd both be …in about thirty minutes or so.

"You bring all the best part favors," he murmured against the heat of Brian's throat. He felt himself swirled around until his back met the older man's front. He cackled joyously as they continued moving their hips in a vague dance to the techno beat that thrummed through the room, giving _Babylon_ its pulse. Everything around them, _including _them, was dark and perfect and sexy. Brian hadn't had to go and throw a big party for him—even though it _was_ nice—just being here together, in the habitat that nature had intended for them, was wonderful.

"Look around," Brian enticed, "I don't think you've seen everything yet."

Curious, Justin let his gaze sweep the room, jumping through the swirling lights to settle on person, then thing, then person. Daphne was not too far off, getting her groove on with the hottest queen she could find, but that was nothing unusual. What was he supposed to be looking for? "Brian I don't—" He broke off. _Oh_. It was the dancers. The ones that were always present at _Babylon_. In the crow's nest, on the two miniscule stages, at the back and on the bar. They were painted. Well, that wasn't exactly the whole of it. "Woah." Justin squinted at their skin, rendered in myriads of colors. "That's so cool Brian!"

"Kewl," the other man mocked, yet again.

"Cut it out," Justin swiped backwards half-heartedly. "Can we go see?"

"See, touch. You know I pay them…"

"Creeper." The one in the crow's nest came down to see them at Brian's beckon. Justin let his eyes trail over the well-formed man's body. "Leave it to you to find a way to make Seurat pornographic."

"I find bulging… everything, to be the ideal canvas for fine art," Brian stated academically. "Admire the use of the pointillism technique in the buttocks region."

Justin couldn't help it, he laughed. Every one of the gogo boys was painted as a classic example of a different movement. There was a Picasso in the back of the club, and what looked like Vermeer at the bar. "You've outdone yourself," he acceded. "I like it. A lot." Turning in Brian's arms, he lifted his head to give his taller boyfriend a kiss. "That's for all of this."

Brian kissed him again, and again for another long moment, not wanting to relinquish the feel of those perfect lips just yet. "That's all I get for it?" he complained quietly.

"That's all you get for now. I want that dance you promised me."

There wasn't a second between when he said it and when Brian jerked their bodies together again. "You've got it, hot stuff."

"Don't call me that," Justin protested, even as his hands and body were taken into the control of the other man. Something roughly Spanish-inspired had begun to play, and for the second time in his life, Justin Taylor was reminded that his lover was accomplished enough in formal dance styles to lead him effortlessly through the motions.

"Close the door."

The heavy metal slider that served as the gateway between Brian Kinney's loft and the rest of the world was obligingly shut and locked. And since he'd learned the hard way what happened when locks were forgotten, Justin also managed to activate the security system. He hadn't had enough pills and booze to forget that yet.

"Want a water?"

Justin glanced over to where Brian stood, poised at the fridge. "No."

His eyes glazed over a little as he remembered the first time he'd seen Brian pull a water from that fridge. He wondered now if Brian would dump it all over himself again. He wanted him to. Wanted to see it ripple down his pecs, his nipples, that flat stomach. He wanted to lick it off of him. Justin was buzzing with warmth and energy from their exertions at _Babylon_, yet none of the thoughts that flittered through his mind came to the surface. He remained silent, instead keenly watching Brian move about in his equally intoxicated state. He let his eyes trace the other man's body; the planes of his skin, the curve of his muscles, the way his throat bobbed as he took a tantalizing gulp of water. The blonde wanted to see his lover's throat bobbing like that, filled with his cock.

"Ha, do you now?"

Justin startled, not having immediately realized that he'd spoken out loud. "What? Yes."

Brian set the bottle of water aside, stalking closer, backing the younger man up against the riveted steel of the door. "But I'd thought we'd start with what I'd already promised you…" At Justin's blank expression, he reminded, "Twenty. one. smacks?"

Justin balked, his mouth open in incredulity. "A birthday spanking? You weren't serious about that?!"

"My dear boy: I am always serious about spanking."

Gathering what wits he could, backed up to the door as he was, the blonde pressed, "I'd rather you get down on your knees."

"You want to fuck my mouth?"

Justin's eyes darkened, "That's not all I'd like to fuck—"

"Ah, Ah," Brian's fingers shot up to rest against Justin's still-parted lips, "This is _your _birthday. So why don't you just let me dispense with the gift-giving?" His lips attacked Justin's neck, and began working their way down, and down.

Shuddering in agreement, Justin watched as the gorgeous face worked down his chest, well on its way to worshipping his body. He hadn't expected to top tonight, but it had been worth a try. The older man didn't like to roll over for anyone or anything. But that was okay because Justin loved rolling over enough for the both of them. Now Brian was at his waist, and he'd gotten to his knees. The sight of it made the artist's already racing pulse, race faster. Bringing a hand down to rub himself through his pants, he let Brian linger at his middle, sighing as kisses and sucks were placed along the skin there.

Brian's hands curved around his body, grabbing and kneading at his hips, his ass. He did that thing where he rubbed his cheek against him, like some cat. Justin's breathing got heavier, and he hurriedly reached to the button of his fly. But one of those large hands came back to stop him. "I've got that," Brian said, "Take your shirt off." Exhaling, Justin complied. His shirt was on the ground in seconds. "Good boy."

The artist's eyelids fluttered at the praise. He'd never told him in so many words, but Justin was of the opinion that Brian Kinney had mastered the art of talking during sex. It wasn't about what he said, it was about _how _he said it. He could have been talking, low and dark and calm and serious, about the cut of steak he'd received at dinner. But he wasn't. When he started talking to you; low and dark, and calm and serious, while he was taking your pants off, while he was guiding your head down between his thighs, while he was _fucking _you… THAT was pure sex. Brian. was.

And Justin had him.

Brian's eyes shot up, steely and mischievous with his fingers pulling down the other man's dress pants. "DON'T tell me that you came to my fancy party without any underwear?"

Taking himself in hand, Justin gave his hardening member a few good strokes, bringing the head to Brian's lips so that he could admire the sight. "It was MY party."

"—And you'll come if you want to?" Brian finished, brow arched.

"That depends on you," Justin husked, just about done with all of this talking. "Put it in your mouth."

He listened, and Justin sighed at how good it felt. Brian took him in deeply, only bringing his hand around to pump at his shaft once he'd gotten a few good, long sucks in. He worked him with his hand while his mouth trailed down, down, to suck gently at his balls.

"God, Brian…"

The words did nothing to speed up or to stop the dark-haired man in his efforts. Knuckles pressed into Justin's perineum, eliciting a delicious groan. "Put your leg over my shoulder," Brian commanded quietly, mouth free for only the second it took to say it. He helped the blonde along, pushing a foot over his shoulder. In this position, the other man's heel digging into his back, Brian could explore further back with his fingers. He grinned against flesh at the sound of Justin gasping. "Jesus, why are you so tight? Maybe I should have gotten you a butt plug for your birthday after all."

"I've got one."

"Me?"

Justin grabbed Brian's face, strands of brown hair peeking out from between his fingers. "No. Now suck it."

"Well, we all need a selection of sex to—"

He couldn't talk any more after that, because Justin had forced his cock between his audacious lips. The young man watched with slitted eyes and heavy breath, as Brian Kinney went to work.

"Fuck!"

He'd almost come. Twice. An extremely hot and bothered—and admittedly still high—Justin Taylor lifted his head from the duvet to peer down to where his boyfriend was _still _licking his ass (an ass that was also still smarting from a very outrageous birthday spanking). The older man's hand was also wrapped firmly around his cock, and nobody was arguing that the combination wasn't outstanding. But now Justin was left bereft, as Brian was slinking back to kneel, sitting on his heels. "Hey!"

"Relax, Cinderella. My Jaw hurts."

"I'll relax when you fuck me. God Brian I want to come!"

The dark haired man laughed softly at that. He'd been teasing Justin since they'd started. Bringing him close, then backing off. Only to repeat the process again and again. After all, what was a good fuck without a proper build up? At the moment, Brian could tell that his lover didn't exactly see eye to eye with him on this issue. Justin was high as a kite; sweaty and writhing around without finesse. Brian was little better off, with perhaps just a degree more control of himself. That was the way he liked it. When the blonde tried to grab at his dick to get himself off, Brian smacked his hands away. "If you want to jerk something," he hissed, bringing the captured hand down between his own legs, "then try this."

Justin may have growled, but he didn't protest when his hand was led away from his body, to Brian's. The salacious look painted across said man's face only deepened as Justin took the suggestion in stride. Or, _in stroke_. He strained to work the other man from his position on his back. But Brian didn't need much attention to get all the way there. Before he knew it, Justin was being jerked down the bedcovers, until his hips were raised, ass resting comfortably atop the other man's thighs. "God Brian, not like this."

Ignoring his whine, the older man inclined his head, "Can you reach the table?" He knew Justin wanted to fuck fast, and that _this_ was certainly not the ideal position to do it in. But Brian wanted to enjoy what he had going here. Maybe he'd have to work a little harder at teaching his lover the value of tantric practices, he mused, watching as a pale arm strained towards the bedside table.

It turned out that Justin could indeed, reach. Surrendering the lube and condom, Justin waited for the feel of fingers, slick and persistent. Brian reveled in the look on the younger man's face as he opened him up. Prep always seemed to frustrate the blonde, but to Brian, it was merely another part of foreplay to enjoy. He loved the way Justin's breath would catch, before leaving him in the barest of moans; the way his body canted down for more, and how his brow pinched in pleasured distress. He watched it all unfurl before him, the show that he'd seen a hundred times, as he convinced Justin's body to relax enough for what they both wanted.

"Now," he said, pulling hips further back on top of his thighs, "Don't rush this, birthday boy." They were lined up, and then they were together, Justin grunting at the first seconds of pain, and Brian at the pleasure. When the younger man nodded that he was ready, Brian moved.


	3. Chapter 3

"You know, mummifying yourself isn't going to help things!"

From his spot in front of the bathroom mirror, Justin rolled his eyes, concentrating instead on the last piece of tape he had left to apply to his most recent injury. Once the makeshift stitching was secured, he stood back, taking in the sight of himself. He'd already dressed in a nice suit—sans jacket and tie—for his meeting that day, the only thing remaining amiss being the injury to his face. Touching lightly so as to avoid any pain, he said again, "It's just a bruise. Bruises fade." Despite the surety of his comment, the blonde knew that it wasn't that minor. He was freaking standing in the bathroom, taping his skin shut for Christ's sake. Already there were shades of vivid purple around his left eyebrow. He wasn't going to let Brian bully him about it, however. Emerging from the bedroom, he made his way over to lean at the kitchen counter, watching as Brian fiddled with the juicer.

"Look: so many colors! I knew it," Brian simpered as he caught sight of his boyfriend, his faux-astounded tone fading to disgust. "You think a little camouflage is going to make it look any more appetizing?"

"Are you referring to your breakfast, or to me?"

"Ugh." The half-naked man went back to his kitchen appliance.

Given that it was a late Saturday morning, Brian was still only dressed in his boxer briefs. The view he gave off for it—bare skin and tousled hair— was well-appreciated. Justin eyed the tall glass of green glump the other man poured for himself, and made a face, "Why do you drink that shit?"

The darker man blinked in an uncomprehending look, "It's kale-apple smoothie. …What?"

"Nothing." Justin shook his head, "Go ahead. Drink your magic potion."

"It's magic if it makes me hot," Brian insisted, taking an extra-large gulp for show. "See?"

"Wow, you just lost two pounds. I'm amazed," Justin deadpanned. Walking over to Brian's desk, he swiped up the portfolio he'd put together, and which he'd be needing later that day. The PR team for Van Dorn's campaign had asked for a meeting to decide on some concepts, so later that morning Justin would stop by some big shiny building with his work, and hopefully cement a hefty commission. He began to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt, hearing more than seeing Brian approach from the kitchen. The other man sidled up close, until they were practically touching back to front.

"You shouldn't do that," Brian scolded. "It's Armani. And I bought you the whole suit, you know. There's a jacket to go with the pants."

"I like it like this," Justin insisted, continuing to adjust himself. "I need to look professional, but trendy. People expect that of artists."

"Well you're really gaining a handle on the whole 'trendy' part." Setting his drink down, Brian was quick to grab at the younger man's wrists.

"Brian…"

Bringing a pale limb into view, said man issued a noise of disgust. The inside of the artist's forearm was still irrevocably stained by the large, black marking. "I just don't get it," he complained of the tattoo.

"You don't have to get it. It's for me, not you."

Running his thumb along the inked skin that, not weeks ago, had been newly-scarred and peeling, he frowned. "_I_ still have to look at it."

"Fuck you Brian." Justin turned in his hold. "Look at my face then." Unfortunately, he knew the minute that he'd said it, it had been the wrong thing to say.

"I AM looking at your face, Justin. It's beat up, in case you forgot."

"It's _fine_."

"Listen to me; are you listening?" Hazel eyes burned down at the younger man as Brian warned him yet again that his extracurricular activities were not for the best. But Brian knew, even as he spoke, that it was a useless gesture on his part. Justin had been angry, before. Angry and hurt over more than one attempt on his life, and unable to do anything about it. Nothing Brian did or said had made any difference. Hell, even the encounter that Justin had confessed to him—where he'd put a gun into that homophobic prick's mouth—hadn't seemed to abate his discord for long. _Not all scars heal that easily_. The hedonistic man figured that it must have been very similar to how _he'd_ felt, with the cancer. And Justin's martial arts were what the Liberty Ride had been to him. Sometimes you just had to prove to yourself that you could DO IT, whatever "it" happened to be. Now, with his stupid fighting class, Justin wasn't angry anymore. He'd found his release, and even though Brian Kinney was of the opinion that fucking was the best release to be had out there, he had to admit that the changes in his partner weren't all bad. Justin was happy now, some permanent tension having left from behind his eyes, because now he felt in-control. He was happy, he hardly ever had nightmares anymore, _and_ his body was also freaking hot these days.

…Not that it hadn't always been. Brian Kinney didn't fuck people who weren't hot.

"What are you thinking about?" When Brian focused his eyes back on the younger man before him, Justin could be seen grinning. "You spaced out," he chuckled. "Thinking about something good?"

"Hm," Brian agreed, placing his hands down on the other man's hips.

"Liiike, maybe last night?" Warm lips kissed teasingly under his chin, feeling the morning stubble that had yet to be scraped away. "Thank you for my party. I had so much fun." Mentally, Brian wondered which part of the evening his boyfriend was referring to. "Are you going to tell me where you learned all those moves?" Justin asked lightly, swaying his hips within the other man's grasp.

"Well you see," Brian recited, "It began with my pervy ninth grade gym teacher. He was soaping himself—"

"NOT _that_," Justin cackled, smacking his lover for the harassment. "I mean your dancing; where'd you learn to do that… thing, whatever it was, that we did last night?"

_Oh_,_ the opportunities for innuendo are boundless_, Brian thought. Somehow, he declined them all and instead answered seriously, "Salsa. It was salsa."

"Yeah, and we waltzed at my prom. You twirled me and you dipped me—all while everybody but Daphne looked on horrified, mind you. …And I never had to guess what the next step would be, because you just led me into it." Justin beamed in satisfaction at the other man's surprised look. "I remember."

"I didn't know that you could. Not in that much detail." Something in Brian's chest constricted at the thought of Justin being able to remember that night they'd had, and that dance. Did he remember the song? The scarf? The ridiculous boutonniere that he'd actually stuck to himself? Brian blinked furiously, ridding the emotion—whatever it was—from his mind. "I took a bunch of dance lessons in college."

"Why?"

"My roommate was into it. I wanted to be into my roommate." Brian smiled self-depreciatingly, "Unfortunately, he wasn't that into cock. So I was mostly just stuck dancing with this hideous lesbian all semester."

Justin guffawed. "Lindsay?"

"She can't tango nearly as well as me," Brian sniffed, very much aware of how his tale had amused the younger man.

"No. You have way better moves than her," Justin agreed, eyes gaining a darker tint.

"…We aren't still talking about dance, are we?" His answer was the feel of fingertips reaching to inch down the elastic of his boxers. Brian grinned. He could be up for a morning quickie. "Wanna learn the bachata?" he husked against the part of his lover's lips.

Justin just came forward and slipped a tongue into his mouth.

"It's like, noon now. Does this mean you're going to be late for your meeting?"

Justin stood poised at the edge of Brian's bedroom, changing into something new. "It means you're paying my dry cleaning bill," he corrected. A pair of Armani pants and shirt lay crumpled on the bed, perhaps a little bit stained now. The young blonde didn't miss Brian's lack of real concern over delaying him. He was after all, headed out to claim what _would _have been the more experienced man's account. Somehow, Justin couldn't help but grin at that. It wasn't as if Kinnetic wouldn't continue on, anyways. "I have plenty of time, luckily. That was the only nice outfit I had here. I'll stop by my place and get another suit."

_His place. _Brian felt his mood sour. Why the little twerp had to keep renting that shithole apartment when he clearly spent more time at the loft anyways… Well, that was an argument come and gone. "Hugo boss," he suggested instead, turning his thoughts away from such _domestic _territory. "WEAR THE JACKET."

"Aren't you going to wish me luck?" Justin cajoled.

Brian seemed to spend a moment in consideration, but finally pulled his limbs in to rise from the low level of the bed. "Luck? For the stealth job you pulled on me?" He watched through messy strands of hair as the other man nodded carefully. "You know, it gets me hot." Brian was pleased to note that his comment seemed to have made the breath catch in his lover's throat.

"What?" the young artist recovered, "The thought of me, beating you at your own game?" It certainly did get Justin a little hot.

"No. The thought of me, fucking you, after you beating me at my own game." Padding over to where Justin stood, he muttered, "And as for luck… you don't need it, Picasso." He passed the shorter man, intending to go back into the kitchen to locate his discarded boxer briefs, but a hand on his shoulder halted him.

"Brian, oh my god." Justin giggled, "Wow. I got you good."

The other man groaned, figuring the reference to be to some sort of sex injury. "Hickey?" he queried.

"Mm hm."

"Greeeat, just what I need."

"Sorry!" Justin winced.

Departing down the stairs towards the kitchen, Brian raised a hand to silence any useless apologies, "You really need to learn to keep your mouth shut during sex." Justin said nothing, merely bit his lip in restrained hilarity as he watched the glorious view of Brian's backside making its way imperiously through the loft. Brian would realize what he'd said. In three, two, one, "…On second thought. Strike that." The dark-haired man had found his underpants, and spun around once they were securely around his hips. "That's one of the few times I _most_ like your mouth open."

Snickering, Justin went towards Brian, and the door. He really did need to go back to his place and get some clothes. "It looks like you got bit by a vampire," he observed, amused.

A surprised cackle emanating from his lips, Brian scratched his chin. _Oh, if only you knew how close I came._ "I met one yesterday."

Justin's brow crumpled in confusion. "Met one what?"

"A vampire. He was at the gym doing this crazy routine. He was hot."

"He was dead?"

"He was _hot_."

"…Did you fuck him?"

"Would have. He was about to follow me back to the locker room." Brian watched his partner's reaction carefully at the pronouncement. The artist never seemed to care when he fucked _human_ men. "Ted fucked it all up though. We didn't. Do anything."

Nodding stoically, Justin reached for his jacket. "Good."

"What?" Brian hoped that his admitted lack of discretion hadn't perturbed the younger man. He didn't have many boundaries, and it generally pissed him off when other people did. "You don't like them?"

"'Them'?" Justin snorted. "I don't know any vampires, Brian."

"Plenty of people don't know any fags. They still hate us."

The blonde man shook his head. "I don't hate them. You just hear things sometimes, that's all. I wouldn't want you to get hurt." What Justin _wanted _was for Brian to never fuck any vampires. Just as important as never fucking anyone raw, this was important to him. "You remember that time when you told me you wanted me safe; you wanted me around for a long time?"

Brian looked like he wanted to sink through the floor at the reminder of one of the sweetest things he'd ever made the mistake of uttering. "Maybe."

"Yeah well I remember. And I feel the same way about you." Clear blue irises focused in on the other man. "So be careful."

"God, what are you a public service announcement? Fucking some dead guy doesn't mean I'm going to let him _do _anything."

The younger man winced at Brian's turn of phrase. "I wonder how people even end up like that anyway. It's so tragic."

"Tragedy's a myth." Sobering, Brian passed his lover to grab up his abandoned smoothie. "They end up that way because they're stupid. Everything is the result of choices you make, nothing more."

Though the other man couldn't see it, the clear blue color in Justin's eyes had deadened to steel. "Tell that to Ben."

Brian huffed, "I bet Ben would agree with me, actually. He wouldn't have gotten infected if he'd used a condom with that ex-boyfriend of his, just like the guy at my gym wouldn't have become the walking dead, if he'd been clear about his wishes."

Something about that careless appraisal of people's misfortunes was greatly upsetting to Justin. He frowned at the other man, watching as he sipped down his liquid breakfast. He wondered if Brian would apply that same philosophy to his own boyfriend's bashing. Did the older man think that his circumstances were the result of _his _choice to flaunt himself at prom? Justin didn't have the heart to ask it. "Well," he murmured, "Sometimes you don't have a choice. Sometimes it's about the choices of others."

"Don't care," Brian said blithely. "I wouldn't want to live like that."

Whether he was talking about HIV or vampirism, or something else, the artist couldn't tell anymore. "Get a living will then." If his ignorant lover really wanted to ensure that _his_ decisions were what ruled the consequences of his life, then a legal document of suck ilk was advisable. Justin himself had quietly taken care of that after the bashing. Knowing that he'd been comatose for weeks had made him realize the importance of such things.

"I would. I'd tell them to pull the plug and give my clothes to charity." _Some lucky queen would appreciate the donation_, Brian mused. "I'd be explicit."

Justin raised an eyebrow, expression one of knowing discontent. "Good."

Brian blinked at the perceiving gaze that locked onto him. It was disconcerting. "Would you do it?" he asked. "Do what I wanted?" Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought of Ted. Now _there_ was someone you could count on in practical matters. The neurotic man had entrusted Brian with that choice, but could _he _trust the young man before him with the same?

"Sure Brian, whatever." Justin looked as if this newest conversational curveball was freaking him the hell out. "You pull my plug, I'll pull yours."

"I would have said the same thing." Grinning, Brian sauntered over to his desk chair, unceremoniously splaying his barely-dressed form into its leather confines. From some hiding spot near the stereo, a joint was produced. He promptly lit it. "Great talk golden boy. Now scat or you'll miss your big meeting." He watched passively as the blonde trick who'd occupied his bed—and his thoughts—for the past four years, hefted the loft's door wide and stepped out into the hall.

"I'll come by tonight. Try to kick the macabre mood by then." Hesitating, he added, "Love you."

Brian may have been making direct eye contact with the blonde as he said it, but in lieu of a reply, he simply raised his eyebrows and took a drag off the joint, issuing and then recapturing the resultant smoke ring with his mouth. Justin slid the door the rest of the way shut without another word. Brian stared unfeelingly at the spot where Justin had disappeared, eyes wide and impervious in that childish look that always said he was taking in something that was way out of his emotional depth. _Love you_. Why the hell did that stupid phrase mean so much to Justin? Brian knew it did. For the better part of their relationship, he'd had to watch as the beautiful kid's heart sunk, his eyes clouding over every time he didn't get his token phrase reciprocated.

That tight feeling in Brian's chest—what he figured to be affection—had never been exhibited in greater intensity than the time he'd watched the ash-strewn face of his lover breaking in relief, after hearing Brian _finally_ admit to what they'd both known all along. He didn't think he'd ever made Justin more heart-breakingly happy than in that moment. The bombing of Babylon had been ages ago, it seemed. So much had happened in their world since then, and yet… they were still together.

Exhaling the rest of the joint's smoke on a long sigh, Brian figured that maybe it was time he gave Justin an inch, and did a repeat performance of that stricken reunion by the ambulance.

He'd tell the little twat he loved him. The next time he saw him.


	4. Chapter 4

Well, they'd liked his presentation. Everything had gone perfectly, and Justin had his commission.

Four o'clock that afternoon found said man standing in a room all alone, grinning his ass off. He'd been invited to Van Dorn's mansion outside of the city, and they'd convened in the house's elegant dining room, the oak twelve-seater serving as their conference table. Van Dorn himself hadn't been present, but his campaign team had given Justin approval on all of his concepts for the job. Yes, he _had_ cemented the commission to work on the campaign. He'd also picked up a sizeable preemptive check, which was already tucked securely away in his backpack. He couldn't wait to tell Brian.

By now all the staffers had departed, eager to enjoy the remaining hours of their weekend and not at all concerned with leaving the new hire all alone in the large house. Well, at least Justin _thought _he was all alone. He was pretty sure that nobody was currently inhabiting the expansive estate. Glancing around the abandoned conference space, he steeled himself, ready to reckon with the mess that'd been left behind. The posters, story boards, and sketches that he'd brought were currently scattered all about the room and table. If nothing else, his brief stint working for Brian at Vanguard had taught him to over prepare for meetings, and bring big visuals. Being left with a gigantic messy room to clean up, however, was not exactly the sort of send-off that he'd expected. Oh well, it wasn't as if he had a slew of measly interns waiting to pick up his shit. "Better get started," he muttered to himself. He moved to unclip a print from the wall.

"Can I help?"

Justin gasped at the sound, startled eyes shooting over to where a strange man stood at the room's entrance. Blinking, he gave a nod. "Sure." The unfamiliar man hadn't been present at the earlier meeting, and Justin watched him closely as he came around the dining room table. Errantly, the blonde considered that this new arrival was quite… _attractive. _

"They left you alone with this mess?" the stranger asked, tone dispassionate. "Predictable. Here, let me help you." He'd bent to pick up a poster that'd fallen to the floor, and Justin eyed the stretch of his jeans against his backside. "I'm Skyler," he offered once risen back to his feet.

Justin noted the other man's relative height. Most guys were taller than his own five nine, so it almost came as a shock to have his eyes level with those of the handsome man before him. They were dark eyes, matched with the deepest auburn of hair imaginable. He'd just learned his name, but already, Justin couldn't help imagining the other man bent over the dining table, that red hair clasped in his fist. Shaking the impulsive thought from his head, he managed to return, "Um, I'm Justin. I'm—"

"—Doing the art for the campaign, I know." Skyler smiled, his pretty eyes crinkling at the edges, "I heard them talking about you before you showed up." At the blonde's worried face, he offered a conspiratorial wink, "Don't worry: they said you were hot shit."

Laughing nervously, Justin ducked his head, "Oh."

"They were right. You are."

The way he said it—eyes gleaming and soft smile stuck in place—had Justin's gaydar ratcheting up to DEF CON 1. Justin allowed himself to grin more widely as he continued picking up, "I'm sorry, but who exactly are you?"

"This is my father's reelection bid."

Justin's eyes widened. "Oh, you're Van Dorn's son?" He felt a smidge of disappointment pass through him. No way could he fuck his new boss' son, no matter how cute he was.

"Skyler Van Dorn," the auburn-haired man affirmed with a nod, reaching to pull a story board from one corner of the table. But the corner of the board caught at Justin's backpack where it lay perched, and the other man cursed as it tumbled haphazardly to the floor. "Shit, I'm sorry." Random articles had escaped the bag, and both men knelt down hurriedly to gather up the mess. "Jesus, look at me: I offer to help and make _more _of a mess."

"It's okay."

"Hey, what's this?"

Blue eyes shot over to see Skyler examining a page of what would soon be the inaugural issue of _Rage_, volume 2. Justin grimaced. He'd picked up a particularly… _graphic_ frame. "That's just this comic book I work on. It's a side project." _Great, now the guy would think he was a huge horny nerd._

"You do the art?" Skyler was asking. "That's awesome. These are really good!" The handsome man glanced up at Justin, and then back to the page. As he looked away, Skylar missed the blonde's wince at the reading material; this particular page had frames depicting Rage, slamming JT into his bed. "The hero—'Rage'?—he's hot."

Justin's lips twisted wryly. "I'm sure he'd love to know you think so," he muttered, ignoring the quizzical look he got for the odd phrasing.

"Actually, the blonde one's hotter." Skylar's finger traced over the drawn form of JT's body. "Look at his face. He loves it."

Something about seeing the other man touching the drawing, a drawing of a naked JT getting fucked—which was basically based off of Justin himself, was unexpectedly erotic. When he reached to take the proffered page back, Justin definitely didn't miss the familiar swipe of the other man's calloused thumb against his palm. "You know the author and I—Michael—we based this off of real life. People that we know."

Skyler's eyes simmered at the blonde artist. "I guessed as much."

That was it, Justin decided. He was going to fuck this guy before nightfall. They continued picking up together, until the room was as spotless as when the artist had entered. "Do you live here?" Justin finally asked.

"Sometimes. …You want a tour?"

That answer had the lighter of the two grinning. "Sure."

"And this is the pool. Well, one of them. There's another outside, of course."

Eyes spanning wide about the cavernous room, Justin nodded spacily, "Of course."

The tour that he'd request had been going on for the past forty minutes, at least. So far they'd seen the kitchens, the den, a music room, a conservatory, a _ballroom_, and now: the indoor pool. But much to the artist's discontent, their tour had not yet taken them to anybody's bedroom.

In its defense, the indoor pool was pretty nice. It was an old room that looked as if it'd been tiled in the 1920's. The water was dark and the ceiling low, and what minimal light there was, was left to reflect the motion of the rippling water onto the ceiling and walls. The two men walked about the perimeter of the pool as Skyler explained, "I used to hate it in here when I was a kid. It's so eerie. On rainy days I'd swim indoors, but I always felt like someone would sneak up on me."

"I think it's peaceful," Justin spoke, his voice echoing around them in the still space. "Not so ba—Ah!" He cried out abruptly as his footing was suddenly lost from beneath him, some slick spot on the floor sending him careening off balance. He saw the stone lip of the pool heading for his face, but the disastrous path was interrupted by strong arms coming to grab about his waist,

"Whoa! Careful." Skyler pulled the artist's form closer against him, "Don't want you hitting your head and drowning."

Justin was still shaking the prickle of an adrenaline rush from his limbs, the near-fall having shocked his system. "Don't worry," he said breathily, "I'm a good swimmer." The other man wasn't letting up on where he held them together, and that more than anything had the blonde looking over his shoulder. Once he could see Skyler's eyes, he knew that he wasn't imagining the tension between them. _Finally, _he thought. Exhaling out his last nervous breath, Justin smashed their lips together in a fierce kiss.

Skyler could be felt stilling for a second, and then kissing back. Justin thought that he had soft lips, and a willing mouth. His hands shot back to run over the hips of the other man, feeling him. Skyler returned the touches with fervor, turning Justin in his arms before very long. "Take your shirt off," he urged, watching as the artist moved to comply without protest. The auburn-haired man panted, enthralled with how sure and calm the blonde man seemed. Skyler wondered if his new acquaintance would fuck him with that same burning confidence. It was obvious, by now, that both of them had been waiting for that very thing. Justin stood back and pulled his sweater off in one smooth motion. His shoes and pants were quick to follow, and then his underwear. Backing away—with a degree of caution for the wet floor this time—Justin sat down on the lip of the pool.

"What are you doing?"

Grinning backwards, he offered, "Trying out the water." And with that, he slipped smoothly into the pool's depths, submerging entirely beneath the glossy surface before reemerging in a great rush. Water streamed off of the artist's body as he stood in the shallows, skin gleaming wet and hair slicked to his skin. He was any queer man's wet dream. Brian knew it, Justin knew it, and now, standing slack-jawed and wanting at the side of the pool, Skyler knew it too. "Well?" he queried, wiping the water from his eyes, "You coming in?"

It didn't take the other man very long to shed all of his clothes, too.

"Oh god…" The man in front of Justin choked out a moan, water sloshing about him. Justin hadn't wasted time in pinning him against the edge of the pool, their kisses quickly escalating into much more. Now, long moments later, Justin was surprised to hear any words emerging from the other man at all. Skyler Van Dorn was a very quiet fuck.

It was unfortunate, because Justin really did love to hear the men he fucked crying out. That was one of the things that he loved about Brian; when they fucked, the man never held back from whatever animalistic sounds struck his fancy. It was _hot_, listening to a man grunt and pant and curse. After all, what fun was sex if you couldn't verbalize your appreciation for it? At least the room they were in had an echoic quality, Justin thought. What little sound Skyler did emit was amplified by the tiled walls, otherwise the artist might never have heard him at all.

"You like that?" Justin asked heatedly when he felt Skylar shuddering about him in pleasure. No words issued from the other man, but straining muscles and heaving breaths told Justin all he needed to know. They fucked and panted and groaned, the reverberations from their exertions slicing through the silence of the room and returning to their ears in nearly obscene fashion.

If anyone were to walk into the pool room right then, they would have been assaulted by the sight of the two gorgeous and naked young men pushed up against the side of the pool, moving desperate and fast to get off.

And they would. Even then, Justin could feel the all-too-familiar tingling that signaled his approaching orgasm. Licking a hot stripe up the back of the redhead's neck, Justin quickened his pace, hips pistoning in an end-game pace against the other man's ass. It was time to come.

"Ah! Careful," Skylar hissed.

Whether it was in reference to the new, brutal pace, or to the generally rough location, Justin couldn't know. Fucking in the pool hadn't turned out to be very easy, or overly comfortable for that matter, but their dark seduction within the watery cavern had kindled a heat within the two men; a heat that was unobservant of hard surfaces and inconvenient edges. Their toes scraped against the pool's tiled bottom as they moved. Their fingers twining mercilessly at the stone edging, grappled for leverage.

And all the while they panted, Justin's harsh breaths delivered directly into his partner's ear. "Fuck!" he yelled, growing immeasurably closer to his peak. He went faster, rougher, hand coming around to jerk the other man in pace to their thrusts. At Skyler's shocked grunt, Justin growled into the skin of his shoulder, squeezing his hand with purpose. "Gonna come," he warned, letting the other man know that he'd better hurry the fuck up if he wanted to get off first. A second more of his hand working beneath the water, and Skyler groaned out his release.

His companion's enjoyment complete, Justin continued on, seeking out the remaining requisite handful of thrusts to have him shooting his load into the other man's tight body. "Ah!" He came with a sharp cry, the sound emanating louder than life within the insular room. Their bodies slumped heavily against the pool's edge, dark water still coming in small waves to lap at their shoulders.

"God damn." Skyler finally said, once he'd come down from his high. "That was…"

"Good?" Justin supplied, still catching his breath.

"Amazing," the darker man agreed.

Pulling out, Justin struggled not to lose the condom under water. It had been just good to him. As far as passive partners went, he'd had better. "Yeah," he said, "Come on. Let's find some towels."

"So you both just fuck whoever you want?"

Justin glanced up, fingers doing up the fly of his dress pants. Brian would probably have something obnoxious to say about the state of his expensive clothes, when he returned home. "Yeah. As long as it's only one time."

Skyler's features tightened almost imperceptibly where he was standing nearby. "Oh."

Justin watched the disappointment in the other man's face crest, and then fade away. And a tension that the artist hadn't even realized was within him, also disappeared. _Good_, he thought. He wasn't going to be one of the ones that fought it. The young blonde man had had enough with fucks who tried to argue their case for seconds, or thirds. Or more. It was so trite. And once he'd been mentioned, they _always_ asked about Brian.

"Is he the guy Rage is based off of?"

"How'd you know?" Justin was surprised at the observation.

"Lucky guess."

"Yeah, he's the inspiration," the artist admitted.

"…So he's like the character then too? His personality?"

Justin squinted in confusion. Was this a loaded question? "I guess," he answered slowly. "In some ways."

Skylar had frowned by then. "How'd you hurt your face Justin?"

Blinking, the blond could hardly formulate an answer to that. He knew right away what the other man must be thinking; it was obvious in his speech. "This?" he exclaimed, touching lightly to his brow. "I fight."

"Clearly."

"Brian doesn't hit me," Justin glared. "And rage is just a comic book character, so can we drop it?" How could _anyone _ever think that Brian would hit him?! "Jesus." For the first time, Justin desperately wanted to erase the injury to his face.

"Yeah." Skylar shuffled his feet. "Do you have a ride home?"

"I figured I'd call a cab. I took a cab out here."

"Ridiculous. Do you know what a waste of money that is?"

Buttoning his shirt, Justin refrained from answering. He had just received a large check for his efforts, after all. "Well what did you have in mind?

Skyler gave a sideways grin, and Justin couldn't help but to chuckle nervously. "…What?" Was he even going to like this idea?

"It's a Harley Sportster."

Justin stared at the amalgamation of steel before them. Wow. He'd never spent much time around motorcycles, so seeing one up close, touching one, was a little bit of a rush. Especially since he knew he'd be riding it soon. The bike was all black tires, black metal, and black paint; gorgeous. "My friends, Leda and Melanie, have them," he offered lightly, running his hand along the leather of the seat. "Leda says they're 'pure sex'." _Hmm_, Justin pondered, too bad the tour hadn't taken them to the mansion's garage. They could've had hot grease monkey sex right on top of the bike. He bit the inside of his lip at the thought. Oh well. Rules were rules: no double-fucks. "Do you take it out much?" he asked instead.

"Always. But never with such a hot guy on the back seat."

The comment brought forth an appreciative smile, and Justin made up his mind right then and there. Slinging his backpack more securely onto his shoulders, the blonde reached forward expectantly. "Okay, where's my helmet?"

They each donned a helmet, Skylar climbed on first, and Justin followed. "Ready?" Skylar asked wickedly from his position in front. The ignition sounded, and then the bike roared to life. The sound was jarring, and Justin found himself grabbing onto the leather of the other man's jacket before he'd even realized what he'd done. "You okay back there?" the red-head laughed.

"I'm fine." Justin felt the purr of the engine vibrating the whole bike. It came all the way up to be felt strongly through the seat they straddled. Wide-eyed at the sensation, Justin thought he'd just figured out why the dykes enjoyed riding motorcycles so much. "This is crazy!" he yelled, to be heard over the noise. Crazy and wonderful, that was. "Can we go?"

"Hang onto your sanity, Justin Taylor. I'm going to give you a ride."

Unseen, Justin smirked. Hadn't _he_ already done that?

They'd driven out of the garage.

Skylar had guided the bike down the Van Dorn estate's long drive, going slower due to the gravel paving. But once they'd turned onto the first local road, they went faster.

They turned onto another country road, and then another. And another. The scenery went whipping by.

They were forty minutes outside of Pittsburgh, where the roads were less busy. Skylar soared along their route, thrilling Justin at the sensation of flying.

Justin's eyes gazed about as best he could, while still holding tightly to the other man. Endorphins invaded his body at the continuous adrenalin rush of their ride.

They didn't talk at all, because they never would have heard each other through the wind and the helmets.

_Justin couldn't wait to tell Brian about this._

There was a dog that ran into their path just as they rode onto the modest bridge.

Skylar screamed, though Justin didn't hear him. Justin didn't see anything until they'd already swerved.

The bike slid. It went over the guard rail. They were in the water.

The water was freezing. Water choked him, and he reached to rip off his helmet, as if that would help. Justin tried to move, had _been _trying to move for long moments. But something was pinning him down, making him too heavy to swim up to the surface that he could clearly see was a mere few inches away. He was panicking, struggling violently to escape. As his energy sapped, he realized that he'd landed on the motorcycle in the water, and that his backpack was hooked. He wondered where Skyler was. He wondered if he was going to die. He wondered why it was so fucking hard to get a fucking backpack off.

If anyone had seen it happen, they could've testified to the fact that the two men went into the water that brisk Saturday afternoon, with hardly a fuss. That the dog wandered off, unharmed. They could have said that Justin Taylor lay in the clear, freezing water of that country stream for nearly four minutes before he passed out. And that Skylar Van Dorn struggled for two minutes more, before he was able to pull him from the water.

But no one else did see it. They were all alone. And that was that.


	5. Chapter 5

It was late when Brian got the call.

As it was a Saturday night, he'd headed over to Woody's intending to meet up with Michael, but the man never showed. In the intervening time, he'd sat at the bar and busied himself both with checking his phone for calls, and checking out a chiseled African American man by the pool table. Brian thought that he looked like a complete top, and casually considered whether he'd be able to talk the man into another sort of arrangement, should they wind up back at his place. His eyes were glued to said man's form the moment his phone rang. Answering it, Brian growled, "I don't know where the fuck you've been. But I'm about to take a stranger to Babylon, instead of you."

But it wasn't Michael who answered him. The soft, tremulous voice of Jennifer Taylor came through the line, and instantly Brian was alerted to the fact that _something_ had to be wrong. Jennifer never called him. She'd moved to Arizona, for fuck's sake. Brian immediately thought of Justin, and how he hadn't called yet. "Mrs. Taylor," he said, responding warily to her greeting. "What's going on?"

The woman could be heard crying, even as she spoke. "I, I told them I'd call you." A long pause. "Brian you have to go to the hospital. Justin's been in an accident."

The world around Brian shrunk. He dropped the glass he'd been holding down onto the bar, missing the bartender's angry glare at the noise. Flashes of memories came at him like punches: Justin turning around with a smile, just in time for the bat; Brian's own hands cradling that bloody head, his efforts making no difference; the doctors—so many of them—pushing him away until he couldn't see what was happening anymore. _No_. Brian gasped where he sat. _This wasn't happening. Not again_. Swallowing his panic, the dark-haired man managed to rasp into the phone, "What happened?"

What Jennifer Taylor told him next, had him running for his coat.

Debbie, Officer Horvath, Lindsay, Emmett and Michael were there when Brian arrived. Jennifer Taylor was on Debbie's speaker phone for the long haul, and they all stood to stare at Brian as he came jogging off the elevator. He looked completely out of place in that night's clubbing attire. They were all gathered in the trauma unit. Nobody at the desk had been able to tell Brian anything.

"He's in a room now." Debbie started, without even having to be asked. "He's in a, a coma." She struggled to even finish the sentence, her airway clogging up from tears. Michael was able to pull her back down to a chair, while Horvath finished for her,

"It was a motorcycle accident. He and the driver went off a footbridge in Butler County."

Brian Blinked furiously. _What?_ What had the young artist been doing on a motorcycle in Butler County? But then he remembered—the campaign meeting had been up north. Horvath was continuing, and Brian struggled to accommodate all of the terrible things that he was hearing,

"—was pinned in the stream. They're saying he was under too long. He has… a lot of brain damage. They don't think, they don't _ know_ if he's going to wake up."

"What?" Brian said quietly, squinting at the detective. "They were _speeding_?" Horvath nodded carefully, and Brian glanced anxiously around the unit floor. "Where is he? I'm going to give that brat a piece of my mind."

Everyone looked up, shocked and bleary-eyed to hear the provocative man so incomprehensive. "Sweetie," Emmett ventured, "Justin's not awake right now."

"Well wake him up!" Brian yelled, making Lindsay jump. He felt like he was going crazy. He couldn't listen to this shit. He had to find out which one of these rooms Justin was in.

"Why don't you sit down and wait for the—" Emmett sighed as his taxing friend went stalking off down the hallway. "—Doctor," he finished lamely.

"Is he still there?" Jennifer Taylor's voice could be heard over the phone. "What's happening?"

Raising the phone's receiver to her lips, Debbie replied worriedly, "Nothing good. This is going to hit the fan."

Once Brian had found the room that they'd put Justin in, he wished he hadn't. From the distance of the door, the terrified man could tell that Emmett had been right; Justin wasn't awake right now.

Steps brought him closer to the bed, and Brian clenched his teeth harder and harder, the closer he got. They had him laid out flat on his back, already in hospital robes. There were IVs in his arms and wires taped to his chest, his head. There were medical restraints around both the kid's wrists, attached to the bedrails. Justin looked too small with all the fuss surrounding his body. It looked as if all the wires and wrappings would swallow him up before long, and Brian desperately wanted to rip it all away.

Carefully, like some timid animal, Brian walked over to stand immediately to the side of the bed. He was so close that he could have smelt a strong cologne coming off the younger man, if he'd worn any. Wide, hazel eyes traced the visage of the prone young man, searching for bruise or abrasion. _A motorcycle acciden_t, he thought. But the only wound he could see was that same cut above his eyebrow. Pursing his lips, Brian tried with all his might not to break down at the sight of his lover in such a state. But they had a fucking tube down his throat! Tape slashed cruelly across Justin's face, holding the ventilator in place.

A sob burst from Brian's chest, loud and excruciating. His face crumpled in agonized understanding of the situation. Whatever his friends had been saying out in the waiting room, whatever it was that he hadn't been able to listen to, was true. Justin was hurt badly, and at the sight of him lying there, the older man was beginning to get a dreadful feeling in his gut. A feeling that this was going to be something bad. Something that couldn't be fixed.

Brian paced the tiny room, the only sound other than his sobbing breaths, the ventilator's whirr. Eventually, he couldn't stand to look at Justin like that anymore. In fact, he couldn't stand at all. The tall man's form sunk gracelessly to the floor of the hospital room, his head clasped tightly in his hands where he sat, hunched over. "God, God, God!" he kept repeating in anguish, as if he actually believed in one. He felt his world crashing down around him, and all he could think to himself was that he wanted to crash too. Because Justin was up there, tied to a hospital bed, and Brian knew without being told that the most important person in his life, was going to die. He stayed crouched on the tile floor, as time lost meaning for a while.

That was how the doctors found him, later.

"As you can see in these images, the large black patches are regions of inactivity. Mr. Taylor's brain function has been destroyed in most of those cortexes, I'm afraid."

"How?" Brian stared across the desk at the man who was trying, in vivid detail, to explain to him exactly _what_ was wrong with Justin. Jennifer Taylor sat next to him, having caught a red-eye back to Pittsburgh the night before. Now it was two days since the accident, and they were finally going to get some answers. "How?" Brian repeated, wanting to know. He'd been told that Justin had received very minimal physical injuries from the crash. The other guy—the driver—was apparently already up and walking around.

The doctor—a bearded man who genuinely seemed to be trying to deliver the diagnoses with _some_ degree of bedside manner—inclined his head, "He drowned, essentially."

"In _four _feet of water?!" Brian protested. "How the fuck—"

"—Brian, please." Jennifer had put her hand onto the railing man's arm in an attempt to still him. "Let's listen." Eying the older woman, Brian could see just how exhausted she looked. A twinge of pity came for her, because the arrogant man actually respected his partner's mother. Jenifer Taylor had always helped him along when it came to Justin. Trying to remember that this was also her son they were talking about, he sat back straighter in his chair. "You were saying, doctor?" Jennifer prompted.

"Justin drowned. People cannot go without oxygen for as long as he did. It's simply deadly."

"But my son's not dead..."

At his wrist, Brian could feel Mrs. Taylor gripping tightly. Glaring stonily up at the doctor, he supplied, "But he's brain dead. That's what you're getting ready to tell us, isn't it?"

Jennifer had sobbed before the poor physician even had a chance to answer. At her teary expression, he sighed, defeated. "Justin still has minimal brain function left. But I don't want to offer you false hope. He won't recover." Jennifer's chair legs scraped the carpeted floor as she stood abruptly, rushing from the room. The doctor and Brian, however, remained seated. "Mr. Kinney… I am so sorry to be telling you all of this, but your boyfriend will probably never wake up. And his condition will worsen. His heart is extremely weak from the hypothermia he suffered."

"So?" Brian pushed, feeling a nagging urge to antagonize the other man for the atrocious statements he was making about Justin. _Fuck You_, he wanted to say. Instead all he managed to do was stare at the scans of Justin's brain that'd been hung on the wall. "That'll be nothing, if he wakes up."

"I'm afraid not. His heart will fail. Soon." The bearded man shook his head despairingly, "Maybe in a day, or in a week. But I would urge you to say your goodbyes sooner, rather than later."

Brian couldn't stand it anymore. He felt sick. Vicious eyes shooting to the doctor, he snapped, "Do you get off on this? Your personal mission to make people 'understand'? Well congratulations, I hear you. He's going to die—" at that last, Brian's speech cut off sooner than he'd planned. He'd said it out loud, and it sounded just as horrifying coming from his own lips. Justin was going to die.

"Mr. Kinney…"

"You've said enough," Brian whispered, suddenly just as desperate as Jennifer to get out of the room. "I get it. I understand." Without another word, he too stood from his chair and hurried for the door. But one last question entered his mind. "Doc?"

"Mr. Kinney?"

"…Until his heart goes, will he be in any pain?" Brian didn't want that. Justin was a pussy if he even caught a sniffle.

"I'm sorry, but we just don't have any way to tell at this point."

Nodding at the door jamb, Brian accepted the response and left the office. Walking down the hallway towards his lover's room, Brian didn't know what the next hour or day would bring. But he did know one thing: he was fucking tired with hearing how _sorry_ everyone was. _Sorry _wasn't going to fix anything.

Jennifer Taylor traced her fingers along the skin of Justin's arm. Up and down, over and over in circling patterns. She'd been sitting with him for a long time that afternoon. After the doctor's news, she could hardly stand to leave and get coffee in the hospital's cafeteria. The tired woman stared down at her son, her eyes holding a world of sadness not expressible in words. "You know when he was little, he used to love being tickled," she said matter of factly, eyes not moving from the prone form of her son. From his position in the doorway, Brian raised his eyebrows at the woman's acknowledgement of his presence. He took a few steps farther into the room. From her chair, Jennifer continued, "Most kids hate being tickled. But not him. He and Craig would lie at opposite ends of the couch when football came on, and they'd tickle each other's feet." She laughed then, "They were so weird."

"He still is," Brian inserted. Justin still enjoyed being tickled. Brian would always do it when they watched long movies together, running fingers lazily over the younger man's neck. But he didn't say that to Justin's mom. He didn't want to hijack the woman's memories. Besides, he thought—and he blinked at the unbearable thought that came next—he'd never get to do that again. "He's strong," Brian offered the grieving woman. "The doctors could be wrong."

Jennifer didn't look at him, but she did ask, "Do you really believe that?"

"…No."

She nodded, eyes unseeing. "I knew you'd say that. You love him so much—always have, and yet somehow you manage to look at things, to _talk _about things, as they really are. Despite him." Her gaze finally slid from Justin, over to the man she was addressing. "I can't do that."

Brian kicked his foot awkwardly where he stood, unsure of what to say. Did she want him to agree? To say that yes, she _was _inferior; full of bullshit just like everyone else? Somehow, Brian figured that he should refrain. "It doesn't matter." He was in that bed now, unconscious and never waking up. No excuses? No apologies or regrets? None of it mattered anymore.

"You think that it doesn't matter?" The blonde woman countered, making Brian meet her eyes again. "It does. I hate saying it but for once, your being a cold-hearted bastard actually matters."

"What?" Brian felt that he'd lost the vein of the conversation.

"I will keep him in that bed forever," she said quietly, almost as if admitting a secret. "I will."

"Mrs. Taylor," Brian warned, "you can't do that. It won't fix anything. It's selfish." Brian halted his speech. Maybe he'd gone too far.

But the older woman was nodding, a few fresh tears gathering in the edges of her eyes. "I know. I know it is. And you know what? I don't care." It chilled Brian, to hear the way that she was talking. She was talking about keeping Justin—_his _Justin—tied up in wires and cords in this room indefinitely. Sniffling, Jennifer added, "And that's exactly why I'm doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Leaving it up to you."

Brain's heart stopped. He knew exactly what she meant without having to ask. She was trying to tell him that she was leaving the decision of what to do with Justin, up to him: Brian Kinney. If it hadn't been so awful, Brian would have laughed. Instead, he shook his head, "You can't do that."

"I can do whatever I want. Don't think you can't do the right thing Brian, I know you can. Just like I know that I can't."

It was nearly the same rationale that Ted had offered, for why he's chosen Brian as the executor of his final wishes. Despite that similarity, Brian tried arguing again as the older woman was rising to leave. "No Mrs. Taylor you don't understand: I _can't_. You're his mother. His family. I don't get any legal say in this. I'm not his partner."

Jennifer corrected, "Oh Brian, you _are_."

Far from arguing that actually: he'd never gone to any courthouse to sign any papers to become anyone'sdomestic _anything_, all Brian could do was blink at Jennifer Taylor as she departed from the room. "I'll respect your wishes," she said finally, "Whatever they are."

After she left him alone, Brian felt utterly stuck. He didn't want to be there, in that claustrophobic room with the beeping machines and the comatose man that was definitely _not _the man that he knew so well. Brian shut his eyes. _So _god damn well. Opening them again, he faced the reality of his lover. Looking at Justin on the bed as he was, Brian also knew that he couldn't just leave. He went to sit alongside the bed in the recliner where Jennifer had been. Once there, he fixed his stare on the close-eyed visage of his one-time-too-many trick.

"Hey," he whispered, partly because it seemed appropriate to speak in hushed tones, but also partly because he didn't want anybody to hear him saying what he was about to say. "You look like shit, you know," he said. But it was a lie actually. Justin didn't look like shit, or even like a proper coma victim. He looked like an actor in some cheap soap opera, _playing_ a coma victim. That fact almost made it harder to bear, because Justin honestly looked as if he would open his eyes any second to cackle about how well he'd fooled everyone; that it had all just been an act. Grimacing at the thought, Brian murmured, "I wish you'd wake up."

Justin remained stone still, and Brian glared at the boy's form as time went on with no answer but the whir of the ventilator. "You are so… _selfish_," he hissed, a small flicker of anger having been kindled within his chest. Exactly who or what he was angry at, Brian couldn't say. But conveniently Justin _was _lying right there, so Brian continued, "I won't let you do this. I won't let you lie here, probably smug as shit. While everyone around you—Emmett, Debbie, your mother, …me—dies a little bit more." He clenched his jaw in a grimace again, but the dark-haired man wasn't able to keep himself from crying this time. Hot tears seared his skin as he challenged his lover once again, "You think I can't do it? That Ted was different and I'll cave-in with you? You'd expect that, wouldn't you? That I'd get all soft and let you do this for as long as you could fucking manage. You're so stubborn. You'd love that. Well guess again, Princess. I. won't. let you."

Leaning in closer to the young man, Brian recited his lover's own words, "I pull your plug, you pull mine. Remember?" He reached a hand forward to touch Justin, the first time that he'd touched him at all since the accident. Long fingers caressed the chin, the lips, the nose, eyelids and brow of the only man whose face he'd ever wanted to memorize. And incidentally, the face he knew he'd never be able to forget. Sighing, Brian tore himself away from the other man and sat back despondently. Tears still stained his face as he reached into his pants pocket to retrieve several pills. His dealer had sworn they were good. They were swallowed dry, and the dark-haired man closed his eyes as he waited eagerly for whatever numbing effects they could produce. "You wake up," he instructed with his eyes still closed, as if his command would actually be heard. "I swear to God, I'm giving you one day to snap out of it. After that…" He trailed off, unable to finish. After that, he'd face the reality that he knew he couldn't escape. He'd come back to the hospital and tell Jennifer Taylor to let her son die.

And then maybe Brian would, too. Because he honestly couldn't imagine any other useful thing to do. Partly due to his grief, and partly due to the drugs he's swallowed, Brian ended up dozing off in the chair. He had failed to notice the presence of several people outside the hospital room door. And luckily, they'd kept quiet until it become clear that the beleaguered man was asleep.

Lindsay, Michael and Debbie stood, shocked and stalk still, at the edge of Justin's hospital room. None of them had to say anything, for them all to know that this was one visit that was going to have to wait. They backed out silently to the unit's waiting room, where Lindsay broke first, "Oh my god. I've never seen him so… so…"

"Human?" Debbie suggested vacantly. More than anyone, her eyes were raw from crying. She'd only stopped that morning, when the tears had simply seemed to run out. "Sunshine brings out the best in people, even him."

"You should have let me go in," Michael was complaining to the two women, "God knows what that shit was he took."

A buzzing came from nearby, and Lindsay frowned apologetically as she rooted through her purse for the offending phone. "Hello?"

"No cell phones in the hospital," Michael muttered under his breath, earning a smack from Debbie.

"That was Mel." Lindsay caught the eyes of her two companions. "She's coming over right away."

With a shake of the head, the loud matron of the group set her earrings to waggling. "But she's watching Gus. Oh honey, she shouldn't bring him here."

"I tried. She said it was very important for her to get over here, to represent Justin… legally."

"Well that's a sweet thought. But Justin's got plenty of people here who love him to help out."

Shrugging in apology, the blonde woman stowed her phone back out of the way. "I'm going to go wait for her in the lobby."

Michael waited until it was just he and his mother standing there, before voicing the thought that'd plagued him for the past few moments. "He's not really going to do it, is he mom?" He didn't have to say who the aforementioned 'he' was. They both knew.

"I think so, baby."

There was a stubborn set to Michael's face that would not be wiped away. He shook his head in disapproval. "It's not right," he sniffed.

The sniffle was all it took to have Debbie Novotny drawing her son in. "Oh, come here." Laying a hand against Michael's hair, she whispered, "Few things in this life are."

In her arms, Michael made a sound of protest, to which she readily agreed. But the woman who served as surrogate mother to them all knew that what she had witnessed in that hospital room had been significant, and genuine. And right. She'd never have been able to do it, but the waitress supposed that was why Jennifer Taylor hadn't asked _her _to be the one.

No. Instead she'd gotten the one prick to outshine all other pricks, to agree to decide for all of them. And somehow Debbie knew that no matter how painful these times turned out to be, it would all work out for the best. After all, how could it not? She'd witnessed a miracle in that trauma unit not a moment ago. Somewhere along the road, Brian had done the impossible. He'd actually learned to love someone more than he loved himself.

And tomorrow he was going to prove it.


	6. Chapter 6

Brian's hand wavered at the lock to the entrance of Justin's apartment, key poised to let him in. Did he really want to do this?

No.

The cheap wood of the front door swung open without any weight to it, and Brian thought—not for the first time—that any front door _that_ cheap was NOT safe. Someone could have broken in and done god knows what to Justin any one of the times that the blonde had insisted, due to convenience or to lovers' squabble, that he spend the night at "his own place."

Standing in the one basic room of the apartment, Brian could remember how awful those nights had been, when Justin had been mad at him and kept away, denying the older man the warmth of his body, in _their_ bed. Over time, the mattress where Brian had ended countless conquests _had_ become "their" bed. Just as the shower had become _their _shower, and the refrigerator _their _refrigerator. Eventually, more things than not had melded into being _theirs_. Until it was _their _life, too.

Swallowing hard, Brian glanced at the walls that looked like they'd needed a new coat of paint—twenty years ago. The crappy studio Justin rented was the only hold out, Brian supposed. Maybe that was why he'd hated it so much. Because of the two of them, Justin had ended up being the one with that last remaining piece of something that _wasn't _"theirs." Surely, a man as resistant to commitment as Brian Kinney should have been the one to claim that distinction. But no. It'd been the other way around.

Glancing around the bare bones of the space, Brian felt his gut clench at every trace of Justin that he could see. There was art shit everywhere. That much he'd expected. Part of the young artist's justification for the rent on this shithole had always been that if he _didn't _keep it, then his professional life would end up spilling all over the loft. Every time Brian had complained about the apartment, Justin had simply asked him pointedly if he liked his Italian leather sofa in the original color that he'd ordered it in. And if Brian was being honest, then YES, he did.

So keep the studio Justin had. The little kitchenette that Justin had rigged up with a mini fridge and hotplate sat next to his sleeping area, quiet and unused. The dark-haired man walked aimlessly over to root around the limited cabinet space. _Christ, the kid had kept plastic dishes here_. Brian scowled. Except for a few memorable fucks, he'd never made a point of visiting his lover's place for very long. Why should he have? When the he had far more suitable accommodations to offer? Shoes scuffing along the beaten-up floor, Brian's hands traced over items in a junk drawer: some post-it notes, lip balm, the little wooden box he'd bought the kid to keep his poppers in. He skimmed his fingertips over all of it, careful not to touch any one thing for too long. _This doesn't matter_, Brian thought, his aimless perusal of Justin's stuff continuing numbly.

Over to the right was the younger man's horizontal drawing board-whatchamacallit, scattered with what looked like materials from his latest project. Brian's eyes looked about widely. He wouldn't finish it now. None of the paintings or drawings that could be seen scattered around would ever be completed. Morbidly, the grieving man thought that if Justin were there right then, he probably would have made some lame comment about artists' works increasing in value after their death.

Staring at all the things inside the apartment that the radiant young artist had created, Brian swore that he wouldn't have cared if his lover had turned out to be a fucking Picasso and every damned one was worth a hundred thousand dollars. He would've taken all that money and paid it back in ransom, to have the young man with him for one more day.

Yet again, Brian felt as if he would be overcome by emotion. He pushed the wave back, refusing to acknowledge those feelings anymore. Better to think about things that weren't important at all, rather than things that were. Doubting his actions yet again, the dark-haired man lingered uselessly in the center of the room. He shouldn't have come here. It had been a stupid, masochistic thing to do. Traces of Justin lingered everywhere: his paintings, his clothing, his Krav Maga crap. The little idiot had even kept all of his old books from school. Depreciatingly, Brian wondered what he was even doing there. Collecting his lover's possessions before he was even dead?

Oh, right. The acerbic shell of Brian Kinney suddenly remembered: he'd come to pack a bag of things for Justin. Things that he would need, should he ever decide to wake up. Frowning, Brian knew right away that _that_ was something he couldn't bear to ponder right now. Justin wasn't going to wake up, and any second spent fantasizing otherwise would simply hurt more than he could stand. _Leave the dreaming to the others_, the protective veil of his psyche told him. Better to focus on more trivial details for now.

So Brian started directing himself through the motions. He went to the apartment's grody bathroom and gathered all of the essential toiletries that Justin kept there: toothpaste and brush, deodorant, razor. The older man couldn't help but to scoff at how well the tiny bathroom was stocked, when any of the requisite items would easily have been found at the loft any day of the week. "So fucking independent," Brian murmured caustically, making his way back out to the main room's futon and dresser. "That's what caused this in the first place," he growled. "Taking motorcycle rides from fucking strangers." _He'd just always had to go for the thrills._ Brian focused on taking out pairs of socks and underwear for the blonde. He couldn't say what alternative he would've wanted, besides the strong-headed man that his boy had become. Had he ever wanted a withering, incapable devotee in place of what he got?

No.

But that didn't stop the irrational anger. Brian HAD to blame Justin for what he'd done, otherwise he'd start thinking other sorts of thoughts; feeling other sorts of emotions. And they'd be far more painful to deal with. No, Brian decided. He'd stick with what he had going already. Blaming Justin.

But no matter how hard the indolent man tried to convince himself of that blameful anger, he couldn't quite push away the tender thoughts that came of his young lover at every turn of the living space that he'd long bemoaned. And as he finished packing the bag of items that was more for Debbie and Jennifer's sake, than for Justin's, Brian also couldn't keep himself from taking an extra minute to pick out a few of Justin's favorite tee-shirts that he liked to wear, just because.

The duffle that he'd brought finally filled with useless items to fuel everyone's useless hope, Brian stood to depart. But something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. What looked like a painting stood propped on a frame over by the couch, and Brian abandoned the duffle bag as his curiosity piqued. It was the easel that Justin used for current projects, he knew, and when he rounded the canvas his lips parted. It was a _drawing_ actually, of him.

Brian's heart caught in his throat as he took note of the empty water bottles and colored chalk pieces by the unfinished work of art. A memory of Sunshine's stained fingers from many evenings that past week flew through Brian's mind. Fingers stained in the same pinks and yellows of that portrait had streaked their bedsheets more than once… This was what it'd been from, Brian realized. _Justin must have been working on it just the other day. He dreamed it up, hovered over it hour after hour, touched it, and made it into a reality as he stood right here. In this very spot._ Brian shuddered. Suddenly, inexplicably, he wanted to take the unfinished work home.

Brian had seen plenty of Justin's work—including cheap sketches and renderings of his very own form—before. That wasn't the appeal of the thing. In fact it wasn't even a very flattering portrayal of him; the image-focused man thought haphazardly that the angle of his expression on the page made his face look fatter than it was. No, that wasn't why he continued to stare at it as if he'd seen some Technicolor ghost. It was that this drawing was searing evidence of the life that'd existed to create it; something so tangible and close to what hadn't been ripped away from Brian until eight days previous, that it was downright eerie. The self-serving man reached forward to unclip it from the board, his mind made up. Justin wasn't coming back to finish it, and Brian refused to leave it in the hovel to gather dust and fade from the sun. Soon he'd have to send movers over to pack everything up anyways.

He held the drawing carefully between long fingers as he took one last look around the apartment that he was sure he'd never visit again. "You made beautiful things here kid. I'll miss that." Brian couldn't have said why he spoke to an empty room that he'd always hated anyways, to a person who wasn't even there. But some keen yet elusive emotion had come over him, and it was starting to feel a lot like goodbye.

"Brian?" Deb looked up at him through weary eyes, "Oh, you brought his things. Thank you dear."

"Yes _mom_," Brian drawled, attention already diverted to a door not meters away. The straps of the duffle were clasped tightly in his hand. "Everything okay?" he asked, not having to lay out his meaning. Nothing was okay.

"As much as it can be," Debbie replied softly. "Given… everything. Those damned machines in his room sound worse every day." Sadly, she moved to retake her seat in the hall. Brian knew that the nurses had probably drug a chair out here for her, given that she'd been keeping vigil outside of Justin's room for the past week. Just like he had, after the bashing.

Brian could remember how he couldn't bear to ever go into the old room then, and yet couldn't leave either. He'd done exactly as Debbie had. And the nurses had brought him a chair, too. Except that Debbie never seemed to leave. It was like she and Jennifer took shifts, for Christ's sake. Absentmindedly, he wondered who the hell was covering the red-headed woman's shift at the diner. "You've been here every day Deb," Brian pointed out. "Stop acting like some house plant. Go home." _One vegetable was enough,_ he thought. Besides, Debbie had her boyfriend and her son to think about, to be with. And Michael had Ben. And Ben had Hunter. Unlike himself. All Brian had was laying in that hospital bead, already dead.

The usually boisterous woman waved him off in disgust. "You mind your own damned business, and get in there. I know you want him to wake up just as much as the rest of us."

The older woman watched as Brian puffed breath despondently between his teeth. His form of silent argument. But that was all the fight she got from him. Perhaps the hedonistic man was just as tired as she was. He went into the room, and Debbie couldn't help but think that, as hard as this was on her, on Jennifer, on all of them; it was _killing_ him. And she knew that if Sunshine had known what this was doing to the older man, he would have tried to either wake up, or die faster. For Brian's sake.

Inside Justin's room, Brian could tell what Debbie had meant. The fucking slew of computers rigged up on the wall—the ones that gave out little wiggly lines to monitor their charge's life support—were beeping worse today. Slogging over to stand between the bed and the window, Brian wished that the stupid equipment had a mute function.

"Here," he said, tossing the duffle onto the floor nearby. "I went and got all your stuff."

Justin didn't answer, but his body did give one of those random little seizes, making Brian wince. "Yeah, I know. You'd probably hate the thought of me going through your shit," he murmured. "Don't worry. I left all of the porn right where I found it." Brian grinned, but only until the boy's body jerked again. That was why they'd cuffed him to the bed; his arms would sometimes move, and nobody wanted the comatose man dislodging the IVs out of his system. _He's not there, _Brian's mind told itself, _It's just a reflex. Don't let it make you think he's there._

Justin's heart got worse every day just as predicted, and as the monitors in his room beeped in increasingly alarming rhythms, it became harder and harder to sit there and watch. So Brian wasn't going to watch anymore. He'd pull the plug. Hopefully everyone else would see that he'd done the right thing. And if not… well if not then they'd all call him a selfish prick. But what else was new?

Sighing, the older man considered, and the refuted the idea of the recliner just behind. He didn't think he could stand another long visit. Best just to endure the requisite five minutes to shut Deb's trap. "You know," Brian spoke again, continuing with the delusional speech pattern that he'd taken up around the unconscious man, "Deb's right. I want it as much as they do. Because I'm no different. Because I care about you just as much as they do."

_That little, persistent kid has somehow gotten in under the wire. And that's what's happened, huh? _

At Justin's lack of an answer, he bent down and brought their faces close, as if that would increase the chances of the blonde hearing him. "But you're not going to do it, are you?" Justin still didn't do anything, features all so terribly passive. Jaw tensing, Brian nearly yelled into the artist's face, "God damn it! Wake up!" And then, in a much softer tone, "Wake up Sonnyboy. Please. …Your time's nearly up."

_Tick tick tick, pencils down. Time's up! _

Brian shook his head as if to clear it of all the memories of all the stupid things he'd ever said, and all the stupid things he hadn't.

He'd given him a day more, to wake up. But one day had turned into two days, had turned into six. Justin's new deadline of a week was fast approaching its end though, and Brian knew that he couldn't keep it up. This time it was for real. He'd have to come back tomorrow and tell Jennifer his decision. He only hoped they could all see what he'd reluctantly seen from the beginning: that letting Justin go was for the best. Nobody deserved to be a vegetable, least of all his gorgeous lover. His body would waste away, his heart would weaken, and heaven even knew if he'd be in pain.

"You wouldn't have wanted this? Right?" Brian asked the unresponsive man on the bed. Every time he saw him lying there, it got less and less alien of a thing to confront. "Dying will be better," he promised, reaching to trace the shell of the blonde's ear. "Listen to me; are you listening? It'll all be better …There are worse things than dying."

_Well that wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen, would it Mikey? To go out in a… blaze of glory. Like Cobain, James Dean, Hendriiixx. They're all legends. They'll always be young, and they'll always be beautiful. _

Shuddering at the memory of another stupid thing he'd once said, Brian gazed down at the other man's face. It was the face of the biggest slip-up he'd ever made, and it was perfect. Brian wanted to remember Justin like this, like he'd been all along. "You'll always be beautiful," Brian whispered. "I promise." _I love you. _And yet again, he'd started crying.

The insulated man wiped at his eyes, glad that no one was in the room with them. He hadn't come here for this. To torture himself all over again. Even at his sulkiest, Justin would not have approved. No, Brian reaffirmed: he'd only come there to deliver the bag of useless hope for all the others. The only thing that would make him feel any better, would be to leave. It wouldn't feel _good_, but it would hurt _less_. So, true to his resolution to stay for only a little while, he prepared to leave the room.

But before he did, he slowly and oh-so-carefully removed a single article from his body, which he placed gently down on the edge of the bedside table. "See you around, kid." He blinked—once, twice—shuttering his eyes back to empty as best he could, and then he walked out the door forever. The cowry shell bracelet that'd always graced his wrist, left behind.

Brian Kinney had no idea. No idea that his grief—however smothered—was unwarranted, that his goodbye unneeded, that his decision irrelevant. No idea of just how soon he really would be seeing Justin again. He had no idea, that Justin would _live_.

Later that night, the cowry bracelet Brian had left behind would be the only trace of him in the room when all of the monitors screeched their alarms. It would be the only trace of Brian present when the nurses and doctors came rushing into the room, and it would be the only trace of him still, as they took Justin away to another unit.

Brian was already in Babylon by the time they did.

Brian's phone rang just as he was shrugging on his coat to depart from Babylon. His two tricks lingered to the side, both making eyes at him as he indicated that they should wait for just a moment. "What?" Brian greeted into the receiver, not keen on receiving calls just then.

"Hey, it's me."

Blinking at Michael's voice on the phone, Brian asked, "Is he awake?" That was the only thing he'd care to know.

But his friend's answer was grim, "No."

"Goodbye Michael."

"No wait, Brian something's come up. Look I think you should listen. Mel's here and she says—"

Brian had the phone away from his ear half-way through the sentence. Who cared what Mel had to say? What the fuck did he care about the munchers? As far as he was concerned, if Michael hadn't called to announce Justin's miraculous recovery, then he needn't have called at all. The phone got shoved back into his coat pocket, and Brian reached for the nearest trick. "Come on," he said, "let's get out of here."

He didn't bother to question what he was doing, or whether it was right or wrong. Other people might have said it wasn't kosher for a man in his current position to be out clubbing and fucking, but Brian knew that it wasn't so bad. Justin would have wanted this, he thought. Not some tragic pile of human flesh lying around the loft, too drunk and too high to remember his own name. Although, that didn't sound like a bad way to end the evening, he mused.

The group of three headed off to their next destination, Brian's phone sounding not long after, in the first of many calls that he would ignore that night.

The misty light of the Liberty Baths shone down across Brian's skin, casting his body in blue, making him into a god. And the men who kneeled at his feet were the ones who worshipped him. Steam floated on the air, settling across their skin, forming droplets that collected into rivulets and ran down along the planes and dips of their bodies. Brian felt it on his hands when he touched their shoulders, their necks. They were all blue and wet, hot and hard; like some creatures emerged from the sea, floating in an ocean of lust. And Brian was their Poseidon poised above.

Long fingers wove messily through the hair of the one on the right. He looked exactly like the one on the left: tan-skinned, dark-eyed, and dark-haired. They were good looking, but Brian honestly couldn't have cared what they looked like, as long as they didn't look like Justin.

Long gone were the days of paying look-alike hustlers for a fuck. When they'd broken up that first time, paying for what he didn't have had seemed like a good idea. But that was because it'd been for something he didn't have. Not something he _couldn't _have. This time, having some kid who looked exactly like Justin from behind, would've been a huge mistake. And that was why the two men he'd picked up at Babylon earlier that night looked absolutely nothing like him.

Now they'd found their way to the baths, and Brian was glad for it. Here he didn't have to pretend it was anything but what it was: fucking, pure and simple. Instead of the bar, there were the benches and the beds. Instead of lively music, there were moans. Instead of the back room, there was the only room. There, it was all about the chase, the thrill of the hunt and it' rewards. Here, it was simply about feeling anything and everything you wanted, and nothing that you didn't. This was the right place to be.

From his stance, Brian panted as the duo at his feet continued to please him with their hands, their mouths. They didn't seem to take notice of the scared desperation in Brian, or to interpret it for the defense mechanism that it was. All they seemed to notice was that he was hard, and they were bringing him closer and closer to his completion.

It may have only been physical pleasure, but the self-serving man had long figured out that sex was a wonderful way to ignore one's problems. It'd been how he'd handled it when Justin was bashed, when his own father died, and again whenever Justin had had the nerve to breakup with him. Using promiscuous sex as an emotional distraction may have been called unhealthy by some, but it had always worked fairly well for the hedonistic man. Old habits die hard.

The one on the right reached to grab Brian's ass, and followed by swallowing him right down his throat. Brian's hands clenched uselessly against the cold tile behind him as he groaned his release.

After he came and the other two men had stood up, they tried to pull him into one of the private rooms, presumably to rest before fucking in some new arrangement. The pleasure-hazed god that was Brian Kinney offered no resistance as they shuffled him along to do just that. He was too preoccupied for the remainder of the evening, seeking the only version of solace that he knew, to notice how many missed calls he'd received.


	7. Chapter 7

Once he'd woken up and sobered up from his excursions the night before, Brian left for the hospital. No time was wasted lazing around the loft until noon like most weekends. There was no point anyways. It was D-day. He knew that today he would do something unthinkable, so it was best to just get on with it, wasn't it?

Being that it was a Sunday, the drive over to the hospital was short. Brian took the elevator up to the fifth floor, turning right then left then right again through the halls without even having to think about it. No one from the usual assemblage was waiting around in the common area when he arrived, nor were any of them holding vigil outside of Justin's room. That alone, struck Brian as odd. Then he entered the hospital room itself.

His heart stopped, as did his feet. The bed had been stripped. And therefore… Justin was dead. In Brian's mind, one equaled the other. Movies and television had told him so. They _always_ cleared the bed when the patient died. "No," he whispered. "No!" Why it upset him so, to see that his lover had passed away in the night when he himself had come there to end that very same life, was beyond him. But it did.

Brian stared at the cleared bed, the rearranged chairs, the sanitized room that was now devoid of any flowers, balloons or cards. Devoid of the bracelet he had left behind. Devoid of Justin. _I'll never get to see his face again_, Brian thought. They'd taken him away.

"…Brian?" The dark-haired man turned to see his best friend standing in the room's doorway, arms full to bursting with lattés. Michael's face held a look of surprise, which quickly darkened into anger, "Where the hell have you been?! I was trying to call you all night!"

Blinking at the other man far too passively for the present situation, Brian shrugged, "I was out." It wasn't as if he'd checked his voicemail since then.

The displeasure in Michael's features deepened, hinting that he knew exactly what "out" consisted of. "Do you have any idea what's been going on for the last twelve hours?!" he shouted, voice full of the urgency that he'd _tried _to convey in the previous night's phone call.

"He's dead," was all Brian said. "I didn't have to be here for that."

"He's not dead," Michael corrected vehemently. "But you'd have known that if you could have picked up your god damn phone!"

Breathless, Brian asked confusedly, "He's awake?"

"Not exactly. His heart crashed last night. That's what I was trying to tell you when I called. Mel was here and these other lawyers—"

_Lawyers? _"SHUT UP AND TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON," Brian said, voice projected as loud and authoritative as he could make it. Lawyers in a room with a comatose man couldn't mean anything good. "Where is he?"

Michael Novotny was Brian's best friend since forever, and Brian knew that he'd never play games or lie to him. So it was with a lurching stomach of trepidation that he took in the other man's expression of pure consolation. Because it meant that a doozy was coming. "They've got him in another ward, getting him ready."

Brian's brow furrowed, "Getting him ready for _what_?"

"Hey. You." Brian's strategy of attracting attention from the nurse at the desk might not have been in the most polite of tastes, but if it was rude he didn't care. From her seat, the receptionist looked up at him with distasteful eyes,

"Yes, Mr. Kinney?"

Brian frowned. Had he really spent so much time there that the nurses knew him by name now? Shaking the thought away, he said brusquely, "What did they do with Justin Taylor, room five eleven? Where is he?"

The woman seemed to hesitate for a second, before reaching to reference a manila folder, one of a nearby pile of manila folders. "He was transferred to special recovery," she stated, placing the folder back aside. "Last night."

"I _know _that," Brian growled. "But _where _is he?" He had to find out where they'd put him. If what Michael had said was true, then finding Justin now was the only thing that mattered. Brian couldn't believe what his friend had said. It just couldn't be true. It was too outrageous. _And what the fuck was "special recovery" anyways? _"Well?" Brian prompted roughly, "Where?!"

"I'm sorry sir, but I cannot disclose that information."

Brian's entire face darkened with fury. "Why the fuck not?!"

"…Only the immediate family of Mr. Taylor may have direct access to his medical records," she claimed, not quite losing the confident glint to her eye, even as the tall man's gaze threatened her death. "You aren't family, I'm afraid. And you're not listed as a domestic partner in these records, so I'm sorry but I cannot release any more information to you."

"But he's SICK," Brian fumed, "I need to find him."

"You have to be family or domestic partners to—"

"We ARE domestic partners, you ignorant cunt!" Brian seethed at the woman who, it was now quite clear, was prepared to stonewall him. Didn't she know that he was the most important person in Justin's universe? Didn't she know Justin was the most important in his?

The woman's eyes grew wide in shock, but not understanding. "I will say it again, Mr. Kinney: People like you are not allowed visitation rights. Now if you come back with a family member that's different. But until then please step back. There is no need for foul language!"

"YES, there IS." Brian slapped both hands down onto the counter, leaning forward menacingly, "Because you're sitting here playing '_Keep out the Faggot_,' while I'M trying to find my way around YOUR goddamn hospital!"

Another person—this time a young male nurse in green scrubs—emerged at the commotion that could be heard going on at the front desk. The nametag that he wore proclaimed him to be _Gavin_. "Sheila?" he asked warily, eyeing the raging man before them. "Is everything all right?"

"No, it's not!" Brian interjected for her. "Justin Taylor, room five eleven. I need to know where he is. She won't tell me." He waved a hand angrily at the seated woman. The male nurse—Gavin—frowned at him, "You're Mr. Kinney?" A nod was given, and Brian was sure that he'd get yet another obstacle thrown in his course, but to the provocative man's surprise, he was waved down the hall.

"Follow me. I'll take you."

Brian didn't have to be told twice. Hurrying after the other man as they went to the elevators, he just couldn't make the knots in his stomach unravel. Because what Michael had told him was happening, was not acceptable. Justin hadn't wanted _that_, Brian was sure. He just had to get to the doctors so that he could tell them before it was too late.

Brian sat alone in the tiniest waiting room he'd been in yet, on one of the below-ground floors of the hospital.

The couches here matched those up in trauma, but the walls were plain white. Unlike upstairs, nobody had made any effort to decorate this space with posters and fake plants. No, this room had been more of an afterthought, squeezed down into the basement where the chance of daylight or any hospital visitors accidently passing by, was zero to none. _Special Recovery_, as it turned out, was where they took people to be made into vampires. It was housed across the hall from the morgue.

Brian tapped his feet anxiously against the linoleum of the floor, finding it ludicrous that he was sitting in a waiting room at all. He should've been directed straight to the person who was in charge. But that hot nurse—Gavin—had been annoyingly persuasive. He'd gotten the darker man to cool his heels while the doctors came for him. Nothing drastic was currently being done to Justin, he'd assured, so Brian could just sit and wait like a good little boy.

Well, Brian had just about had enough of being a "good little boy." He shot up to standing the moment a man in a white coat appeared at the door. "Are you Doctor Harrison?" he asked intently, knowing that Dr. Harrison was the man he was supposed to be seeing. There was another man—this one a brunette in dress pants and a sharp sweater—that stood next to the doctor, but he had no nametag, and Brian all but ignored him.

"Mr. Kinney. So sorry about the wait," the man in the coat said. "Will you please follow me?"

"Follow, follow, follow," Brian muttered under his breath, even as he moved to do exactly that. So much following was ratcheting up his anxiety to near-intolerable levels. He desperately wished for a cigarette. They all piled into what he quickly surmised to be the other man's office. Brian took one of the two chairs that were clearly meant for people like him, while the doctor and his companion went behind the room's desk. Doctor Harrison sat, the other guy stood. "If we're all just about situated," Brian sniped, "I'd like to know what's going on with Justin."

For his part, the doctor looked duly sympathetic as he responded, "I understand your apprehension, Mr. Kinney. Now I will ask one favor of you before we begin, which is that you try to stay calm and listen to all that we have to tell you about Justin. –He's doing fine," the other man said hurriedly, holding up a hand at the sight of Brian's parted lips, "but there is much to discuss."

Trying not to let his hands grip too tightly at the plastic arms of his chair, Brian nodded tightly. "Fine."

"Good." The physician seemed calmed by the response he got. "Now, first off, I want you to know that Mrs. Taylor has signed a disclosure agreement, allowing me to speak with you about Justin's case. I am free to tell you all information that I've told to Mrs. Taylor, but no more." Brian's brow furrowed at the caveat of "no more." What the heck couldn't a doctor impart upon a comatose man's mother? The doctor was still speaking pleasantly away at him, "This here is Aiden, our resident vampire."

Brian's eyes jerked sharply to the man standing mildly in the sweater. _Vampire_. He didn't look like anything out of the ordinary—handsome maybe, but a pretty face didn't exactly translate to "undead" in the promiscuous man's mind. Brian simply hadn't known what was standing there with them. "_Did you touch him_?" he asked right away, voice tense with the promise of violence if he had.

"—Mr. Kinney, please. Let's all remain civil here. I can tell that you are frightened for your partner's safety, so I think that if you listen to what I, and Aiden, have to say, then that might help." At Brian's nod for him to continue, the physician said, "Justin's heart condition has been very tenuous, as I'm sure you know."

Yes, Brian did know that. But that didn't explain why they were all sitting down here in the basement of the hospital. "Yeah, I know," he said hoarsely.

"And his condition, however unfortunate, was relatively stable up until last night."

Brian could only stare, perhaps rudely, at the other man. Yes, apparently something awful had occurred last night, something that he'd missed while he was away getting his dick sucked (he hadn't yet thought much about the implications for guilt, there), and they'd had to whisk Justin away to stabilize him again. His heart had almost given out… The usually impervious man winced as a wave of self-loathing overcame him. The person with whom he'd shared the past four years of his life had almost ceased existing, and _he'd _been out doing all he could to ignore that Justin had ever existed at all. No regrets? No regrets was bullshit.

"We were able to stabilize him, eventually," Doctor Harrison hedged.

"He's brain dead," Brian recited wearily. "What does it matter if you stabilized him?" Hazel eyes flipping back to Aiden, he added, "I came here today to tell you to let him die. His mother is leaving that decision up to me." _So don't go thinking you're going to sink your teeth into him any time soon._

"We've been told," Aiden responded calmly, the first time he'd spoken yet. "But you still have some things to learn about the situation."

Brian didn't like the way Aiden addressed him. The vampire looked like he thought Brian needed to be educated, and as much as Brian Kinney _hated_ being told what to do, even more so he hated being told what to think. "Look," he said contemptuously. "You're not turning him into a fucking vampire. No way." Justin was called Sunshine for a reason. He was exuberant, full of life. He existed like a ball of light. Nobody could make the dark-haired man believe that Justin would have wanted to exist as some macabre… _thing_ for the rest of eternity. "He wouldn't have wanted that."

"His continued care directive stated differently," Aiden challenged, arms crossing in front of him. "He authorized the use of the procedure, if dire need should arise."

Surprised eyes widened at the vampire's pronouncement. "_Continued care directive_?"

The handsome vampire inclined his head, "Yes. You might know it as a living will."

"I _know _what it is, thank you very much," Brian snapped. He had two separate lawyers on retainer at _Kinnetic_, for Christ's sake. _Justin had had a living will?_ This was the first Brian was hearing about it. What lawyer had he found to draft such a thing up? Brian wondered. And furthermore, why the hell would the perfectly healthy, _twenty one_ year old man have wanted one? The older man's mind traced back to the flippant conversation he and Justin had had the week before; the last conversation they'd ever had. He remembered how the blonde had spoken about living wills, and advised Brian himself to get one.

That little fucker. He'd gone and had some legal document drawn up without telling anyone. Brian could hardly believe what the man behind the desk was saying. Justin had _wanted _to be turned into a vampire? "No." Brian shook his head, as if to re-direct his thoughts. "He wouldn't have chosen such a thing. Only in the most desperate of circumstances…" But this _was_ the most desperate of circumstances, Brian reminded himself. And Sunshine had left a will saying they could do this to him. "You little hypocrite," he murmured under his breath. Justin had warned _him_ not the fuck vampires, and yet all the time he'd had it in his will to let them do this, this _thing_ to save his life.

"Mr. Kinney… Justin had his wishes and we—"

"I don't give a fuck what his 'wishes' were," Brian countered loudly. "He's a stupid kid, and he should have thought this through better before he went and put it on paper." Standing, he asked, "Does this override what I— what Jennifer says? This will?"

"Yes." The handsome vampire, composed as ever, had answered firmly. "Ms. Marcus was here delivering the directive herself, and she made it quite clear that Mr. Taylor had NOT taken his legal commitments lightly. In the event of an incapacitating event, he didn't want to be kept alive by means of artificial support, ongoing resuscitation, or even by extensive support in the case of quadriplegia."

Brian blinked in confoundment at what the other man was rattling off to him. Justin had held all of these wishes? All of these specific opinions about what could _hypothetically_ happen to him? The experienced man was shocked to be hearing this. He was disappointed that there was so much to Justin that he'd apparently never known. And Justin had gone to _Melanie _to get this all signed and sealed? Brian clenched his teeth. The next time he saw that meddlesome dyke, he'd rip her a new one. "So you're telling me," he said quietly, voice held low, "That he didn't want ANY of these things done to him, to save his LIFE, yet he wrote down on some paper that he thought it would be just dandy if you killed him?!" _Killed him into a vampire, that was_. "Oh no," Brian rushed, speaking directly to the snotty physician in his white coat. "You keep your 'resident blood sucker' away from him!"

Aiden frowned at the turn of phrase, stepping forward. "Mr. Kinney. Vampires are _not _dead. I am not dead. _Justin_ is not dead."

"Not dead? He's—" All the breath in Brian's lungs froze, his speech cutting off. It was as if he couldn't exhale, but couldn't inhale either. The air simply had nowhere to go for a second. "No," he finally whispered, in shock. Here he'd been, operating under the assumption that they were all discussing a procedure—if it could even be called that—that was _going_ to take place. But at the vampire Aiden's words, and the look in his eyes, Brian suddenly realized: It had already been done. They'd already killed him.

Can I get you anything, sir?

From where he sat on the little plastic chair, Brian shook his head. _You could get me my boyfriend back_, he thought acidly. But he didn't say that, knowing full well that renewed mortality wasn't one of the dishes that Pitt General offered on the cafeteria hot menu.

Brian was currently sitting in the mess area, waiting for the resident blood sucker to show up and tell him more about what had happened. And they were meeting in the cafeteria because once he'd figured out that Justin was already… _turned_, well then Brian had flipped out and tried to punch the doctor, and maybe the vampire too. He'd been barred from the unit for a little while, "for everyone's safety."

_Aiden_ had appeared alongside the table. "Can I sit?" he asked. Brian puffed breath out despondently from between his teeth. Not a "yes," but not a refusal either. The vampire who pulled out his own chair to lower himself onto, seemed to know that he wasn't well-liked by the brooding man. Because that's what he was doing: brooding. "Brian, look…" The provocative man scowled at the familiarity. _Who'd said he could call him Brian? _"I know how upset you must be."

"You don't," Brian corrected, keeping it short and to the point. The less he said to this man, the less likely he was to try and punch him in the face again. Because HE was the one who'd actually done it. Who'd done this thing to Justin.

"I can imagine, then. Many loved ones are devastated, when this happens."

"Why won't you tell me where he is?" Brian asked, yet again. By now he knew that Justin was up and walking around. Completely conscious—albeit as a vampire. But as much as that absurd reality stung the older man, he was also a reasonable human being. _It was still Justin_, he told himself. He still needed to be with him. "I want to know. I… won't press charges if you tell me."

For all his composure, Aiden scoffed, "Press charges for what? Wrongful life?"

"Tell me where he is!" Brian exclaimed. Then he was forced to eye the people nearest them, who'd turned to look at his outburst. Reigning himself in, he amended, "I don't see why you shouldn't. His mother signed that disclosure agreement, like Dr. Harrison said."

But Aiden was already shaking his head, "And that was applicable, until Justin regained his ability to advocate for himself."

"Advocate? You sound like a fucking shrink."

"I AM. …Mr. Kinney, maybe I should explain something: I am a licensed psychologist specializing in grief counseling. I work at this hospital so that I can help people to live, and live well. I did NOT walk into your boyfriend's hospital room and rip his jugular out, so if that's what you're picturing, you'd best stop now."

Brian blinked repeatedly at the other man's speech; the longest he'd gotten from him yet. "You didn't kill him?"

The sigh that came from the dark-haired vampire evidenced his frustration with the other man. "Justin received a complete transfusion last night. Of my blood. Nobody 'killed' him." Placing imploring hands upon the table, he continued, "Now he's resting—"

"Resting _where_?" Brian was about to start wondering if they were simply making this whole story up, for all the evidence he'd seen of Justin's continued existence. "Why. can't. I. see. him?!"

"Because he doesn't want you to."

Brian pulled back, flabbergasted. And that was a feat because Brian Kinney was RARELY flabbergasted. "What?"

"Becoming a vampire is a very, very difficult change to endure," Aiden explained. "There's a whole new reality of rules to adapt to. Especially in Justin's case because he didn't know it was coming." The vampire ignored Brian's snort of derision. _You're damned right he didn't know what was coming. Because you forced this on him! _"When it happens," Aiden was continuing, "You have to deal with the feeling of your new body, operating at an unbelievably low metabolic rate; your sudden hunger, which you may not even be able to recognize as such. Your senses expand to the point of pain—"

"—Pain?" Brian interrupted, suddenly needing to ask, "He's in pain?"

"Not like you're probably thinking. He'll be dealing with an onslaught of sensory information that his human brain was better able to sort through. A vampire's brain processes things—sight, sound, taste—in greater depths. I've heard of it being compared to what people with severe autism experience, at least in the first few days." The handsome man shrugged then, as if this was a perfectly satisfactory explanation he'd offered.

But it wasn't. Not to the man who was desperate just to be able to see his lover again. So desperate in fact, that he hadn't even corrected the vampire, or the doctor, or the bitchy nurse on the fifth floor; when they'd referred to Justin as his "boyfriend." For all he cared, Sunshine could be his "boyfriend" for a little while, if it just got Brian closer to being with him again. "What does this have to do with him not wanting to see me?" Brian asked, wary of what the answer might be.

"He's going through something very serious right now. Something very personal. I evaluated him in the hours after the transfusion; he was handling it very well. But even still: he's shocked. He needs time alone to work through what's happened." Peering intently at the man whom Aiden could tell he was antagonizing with his words, he said, "Justin isn't in the hospital anymore. He went voluntarily to a safe house that we keep for individuals like him."

_Individuals like him? _Brian hated those words the moment they left the other man's mouth. "He shouldn't be alone. Where is this safe house?" He'd go there the second he knew. Brian was already planning it in his head.

"I'm sorry if this is hard for you to take in Brian, but Justin has made his wishes for anonymity clear. He doesn't want anyone told where he is. Not even you."

Inside, the dark-haired man fumed, but he was also scared. Scared at the possibility that what the other man said was true. If it was true, and Justin was avoiding all contact, then it surely meant that the kid was going through something horrible. The thought only made Brian all the more determined to get to him. "Okay," Brian was responding calmly, "But _I'm_ sorry if this is hard for _you _to take in, Fangface, but Justin is a stupid, impulsive, twenty-one year old TWAT, who doesn't know what's good for him. So you'd better tell me where on God's green earth his is, or I'll—"

"Or you'll what? Mr. Kinney?" Aiden frowned, having reverted back to the use of his surname, "You'll sue me for wrongful life? Good luck with that. I believe your friend Ms. Marcus is still here, if you're seeking legal counsel. But otherwise," his hand dipped back out of sight, remerging to slide a printed pamphlet across the table, "I'd suggest one of our grief-counseling programs. You clearly need help accepting this issue."

Brian glanced down. "_Coping Together:_," the paper read, "_When someone you love has changed_." Brian stared at it. _Oh. my. god._ He had had it with this man. "You know what?" he hissed, leaning forward, "Fuck. You." He shoved the pamphlet roughly back across the table, "You can stick it where the sun shines."

Standing, he grabbed his jacket off the back of the cheap cafeteria chair. He'd had it with these people. No one was going to tell him where Justin was? Fine. He'd hire a private detective if he had to. All Brian Kinney knew right then was that if he didn't make a beeline for the front door, he was definitely going to punch a vampire in the face. So he got up and left.

Though he did end up punching someone in the face.

"What do you mean, you can't tell me any information?"

"—But you don't understand: I know him. I just want to know if he's alright…"

"—But they brought him to _this _hospital."

"Well yes but they discharged me last week."

"…I didn't KNOW he was here then!"

Passing a rather distraught young man in the Hospital's lobby, Brian couldn't help but to overhear the virtual one-way argument that was going on between the angry guy and the nurse on duty there. "I wouldn't waste your breath," he said over the—rather attractive—redhead's shoulder, causing said man to cast a dubious glance his way. "All the nurses here are self-righteous cunts," he explained crudely. That elicited a shocked gasp from the woman, and a plea for help from the anxious young man,

"Well have you found anyone more helpful around here?" he asked. "I just need to find out if this guy I was in an accident with is doing alright."

Undoubtedly, Brian's features clouded over in fascinating rapidity. They'd told him that the driver had been admitted here as well… "Do you know his name?" the dark-haired man queried, trying to sound as aloof as he could.

"It's Justin. Justin something. Are you a doctor here?"

The excited gleam of hope in the other man's eyes kindled a hard and fast anger within Brian. He was fine. This man standing before him had spun his motorcycle over a guardrail, _drowning_ Sunshine in a _freezing cold_ river, and he was standing here without a scratch on his body. "No I'm not a doctor, you fucking little prick!" His arms seemed to move of their own volition, and before he knew it he'd roughly grabbed the man by the scruff of his Jacket. "Justin '_something_'?! SOMETHING?" The redheaded man tried to pull away, losing his balance in their scuffle. He fell partway to the floor, only to be yanked back up by Brian's abusing grip. "You put him in a coma!" Shake. "Did you know that!" Shake. "You fucking killed him, and you're standing here calling him 'Justin SOMETHING'?!" Shake.

"Sir! Stop that!" the nurse was panicking.

"Hey, what the fuck? Stop!" Redhead was yelling back at Brian, trying to hit him or kick him. But Brian was bigger, tougher. He shoved him hard across the lobby floor, and then shoved him again, and it became clear to anyone that was watching, that a fight was about to break out. "Stop!" the man was yelling. Shove.

"Stop?! You didn't stop when you were speeding with him right behind you, risking his life!" Shove.

"Who the hell do you think you are?!" Shove.

"I'm his boyfriend, you pathetic asshole!" Shove.

He stopped, face bleeding from anger, to maybe a little bit of understanding. "You… you're Rage?"

Brian nearly growled. No attention was paid to the name that he'd been called, only to the fact that the guy had stopped fighting back, and now there was prime opportunity to inflict retribution. Retribution for what this clueless moron had done to Justin. To _him_. Brian could hear the nurse yelling for security. He could even see the nearest guard coming for him. But that wasn't enough to stop him from hauling back and delivering his fist straight into the side of the face of the man whom he didn't even know.


	8. Chapter 8

"Justin, do you want to take the sunglasses off?"

From his hunched position on the room's couch, Justin glanced up moodily, "Not really." He'd asked the nurses at Pitt General for some, days ago. The shades weren't exactly Gucci—Brian's preferred label for eye-protection, but they did the job well enough. And he'd barely taken them off since.

"If you never take them off, you'll never get used to it," Aiden coaxed, watching the internal struggle of the young man across from him. The dark-haired man didn't quite know why—maybe due to the trauma involved in his particular case—but Justin Taylor was having a particularly difficult time in dealing with the change and its effects. Aiden watched as the blonde hesitated for a moment, but finally reached up to hesitantly remove the glasses from his face. The older vampire didn't miss his wince as that day's noon sun met bright blue eyes. "There, you see? That's better."

"Not really," Justin grumbled. "It's too much." Without the glasses, his small eyes squinted at the visual stimuli that now bombarded him _that_ much more. The brightness, the colors, even the patterns of things; visually, it was all too much. And every time he took the sunglasses off, he got another headache.

"This is only your fifth day. Give it a week more and all the intensity will die down. Your brain will rewire itself."

Justin nodded. He'd heard it before. Aiden—his shrink at the "home," as Justin had come to call it—was very good at giving scientific explanations for everything. Justin's metabolism was slow, his brain was rewiring itself, his cell growth had sped up. So many explanations for so many things, and still the young man felt that he'd been left in the dark.

"Is something else bothering you today?" the perceptive counselor asked from his chair.

"I… don't know," Justin admitted. He'd been in a coma, they'd told him. _Another _one. And this time it'd been worse. He would've spent the rest of his life as a vegetable, they said. So in the end, it was lucky that this had happened. It'd been five days. Five whole days since he'd gained consciousness. Since they'd told him he was a vampire. It wasn't at all like what he'd expected. He certainly didn't think he looked any different, or even felt as different as he should have. His teeth were just a little sharper now.

But then again… "I don't feel like I'm the same," he offered, hoping the other man would understand his meaning.

Aiden blinked. "Well you're not the same. Everything about you is changed. The physiological processes—"

"—No," Justin interrupted. "That's not it. I meant I don't feel like the same _person_." Hesitating, he asked, "Does this change who you are? Your personality?" Somehow—he didn't know how—Justin got the feeling that people who'd known him before wouldn't hardly recognize him anymore, even if he did look the same. It was as if he couldn't remember himself. "Is that possible?"

"Being a vampire is a medical condition, Justin. Like diabetes or hypertension. It hasn't changed your personality. It can't," Aiden offered gently. "Although memory loss can occur."

The younger man's lips parted. "But I remember my life. My family and friends." As if to prove this point to himself, Justin mentally ticked off a list of names: Brian, Daphne, Mom, Molly, Emmett, Ted, Ethan. He'd slept with Brian, gone to school with Daphne, lived with Mom and Molly, been friends with Emmett and Ted, cheated with Ethan. _Oh. _Despite their sensitivity to the room's light, Justin's eyes widened. He could remember the facts about these people, but that was it: they were just facts. And very over-arching ones at that.

"I don't feel them," Justin stated, sounding disturbed even to his own ears. "I just remember them."

Aiden looked on, puzzled. "Can you explain that better?" he asked.

"It's like… I feel like I downloaded someone else's memories, their life. I've got it in my head but it's so faint. It's so detached." Justin frowned at the man who was the center of his new support system, "Aiden, I'm not _connected_ to them."

"That's not something that usually happens when you change. It could be brain damage," the other man offered carefully, "memory loss from when your body went without oxygen under water."

"But I thought this healed everything," Justin argued, glancing down to where his forearm distinctly lacked a large, black tattoo. "My gimp hand is even gone. How can I have memory loss?"

Aiden shook his head apologetically. "I don't know." Apparently, the other man didn't have a textbook answer for everything. "But it sounds like you have a good grasp of your episodic memory. I think that if you worked at it, you could reverse a lot of that damage," he offered instead. "Triggers might help. Have you thought about contacting your family?"

From his nearby seat on the couch, Justin suddenly shook his head. "No. Just… no." He definitely didn't want to do that yet. As concretely as he knew this, Justin still had to work not to let the therapist's stare guilt him. "I don't even know them," he defended.

"Don't know them? Justin, you've been talking back and forth with me about them for five days. You know who your mother is. You know who Brian is."

_Brian_. That particular name held more weight than any other. Justin's memories of him were the clearest, and when he thought of the man to whom he'd used to belong, he got the distinct feeling that he'd loved him. _Love_. It seemed like such a foreign concept now. Were all feelings going to be like this now, he wondered? Things that he could remember keenly yet not quite grasp? "I know who they are," he acceded, "I don't know how I feel about them though." Looking morosely down to his lap, he added, "I don't know if I have feelings anymore."

Sighing, Aiden stood to cross the room and place himself beside the younger man. "Yes, you DO. I know you're feeling a little numb right now." He touched the younger man's shoulder, "But that can go away, if you work at it."

Justin raised his eyebrows, "Work at it? Like… occupational therapy?" He remembered back to when he'd had to work so, so hard to regain the use of his hand, after the bashing. That'd been hell.

"Yes. Exactly like that," Aiden confirmed.

"I don't know if I can do that," the young blonde doubted. He felt so far away from things right then, as if he were some damaged old tape that wouldn't play certain parts anymore. "I'm not ready to see them anyways," he said, in reference to his friends and family. Somehow, he just knew he didn't want to encounter any of those people. They'd have feelings for him, and what would he have to give in return? A blank stare? They'd all wonder what the hell had gone wrong with him.

"They've written you some letters," the dark-haired vampire was offering, even as Justin sat there doubting himself. "Mrs. Novotny, and Brian." Aiden moved to retrieve two simple paper envelopes from the room's writing desk. "Do you want to read them?"

Exhaling slowly, Justin was able to make himself reach out to take the proffered letters. They were postmarked a day ago, addressed to the hospital—not the safe house. "They still don't know where I am?" Justin queried, fingertips running over the haughty script of Brian's envelope. He had… bold handwriting.

"No one will know until you want them to," Aiden confirmed quietly. "Do you want to open them later?"

A nod. "Yeah. I'll read them later."

"Okay that's fine. How about we break for now huh? It's almost noon. You go on and try to enjoy the rest of the day, alright?"

"Okay." So far, their daily check-ins had only lasted about thirty or forty minutes, so Justin figured it was about time to leave. "Thanks again Aiden," he said as he went for the door. "You'll be here again tomorrow, right?" At the older man's nod, Justin visibly relaxed. "Good." He nodded in parting, and went out the door, into the main part of the house.

The other vampire—technically his maker, Justin supposed—had been a lifeline these past few days. Aiden offered all the comfort, all the consolation, all the knowledge and the answers that were to be had. Justin knew he'd be lost without him, and couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was quickly becoming addicted to the other man. Perhaps not in a sexual way, but dependent nonetheless.

Maybe that was why he kept their sessions to a short and sweet thirty minutes, Justin rationalized. As a professional, the man probably couldn't afford to have his patients becoming overly attached to him. It was unfortunate, the blonde thought, since the rest of the twenty three and a half hours of his day were bound to be spent in complete and utter boredom. There was nothing to do in the safe house, and he couldn't go outside.

Walking along the upstairs hallway of the institutionalized house, Justin let himself into the small bedroom he'd been given. It was simple: furnished plainly with a single bed, a dresser, bureau, nightstand, desk and chair. There were two big windows, both of which he'd been fastidiously keeping covered with the room's Roman shades. The bed sheets were pale green, the walls done in a pleasant but neutral tannish color. It was a room for anyone, not _someone_, and Justin was beginning to feel the urge to check out of it as soon as possible, for several reasons.

He had no possessions of his own, for one. The drawers of his dresser were mostly empty, having been filled only with the few items of clothing and underwear that his friends had brought when he was in the hospital. In the coma. Opening one of said drawers, the blonde man ran his fingers thoughtfully over a grey-blue tee shirt that had graphic print scribbled all down the front of it. It was one of his favorite shirts, the artist knew. Who had packed it for him? His mother? Debbie? Brian?

Carrying his two letters across the narrow room, Justin plopped down onto the bed. He fingered the seam of the first one. Should he open them? Somehow, he figured that whatever his family had to say to him, it couldn't hurt too badly. He was numb now, after all. Justin carefully ripped open the envelopes, pulling both letters out. The first one appeared to have been written by Debbie, but upon skimming it, Justin could easily see that it was actually a letter from a group of about seven people.

_Sunshine,_ the letter began,

_They told us that you were doing alright, staying away at a private place. That's good, since we all want to hear that you're safe and not alone. I sent them the duffle bag of your stuff along. If you need anything else like more toothpaste or condoms or anything, just give me a holler. And I hope they're feeding you enough. …I mean making sure that you're not hungry. They didn't tell me what you eat now… Oh sweetie, try really hard to call us. We miss you and can't wait till you get home. Don't worry; there's a night shift at the diner that's yours the second you get back, if you want it._

Justin smiled in spite of himself. Debbie was his surrogate mother. He could remember her smothering love, but his own feelings in response were faint. Swallowing hard, the young man hoped that soon he'd be able to remember how much he loved her back. The handwriting in the next paragraph was somewhat different, changing from looping curls to smaller, neater letters,

_Hey Boy Wonder, I hope the part my mom wrote wasn't too embarrassing (She covered it with a napkin—I can't read it). The doctors at the hospital said some crazy stuff about what happened to you. I guess it's all true. I don't think anybody here really cares. You were in a coma before and it was way worse to see my mom and your mom crying all the time. And Brian… well, I think he's writing his own letter so I'll leave him out of this. I'm really glad you're okay. Call my mom soon, PLEASE. You're all she can talk about._

Michael. Justin knew that he wasn't overly close with the man. They did art together, didn't they? Oh, right: _Rage. _But he was still Brian's best friend, not Justin's. The young man on the bed felt almost hopeful at that reality. Maybe he wasn't just numb in this one regard, maybe this was always how unattached he'd felt to the other man. Justin eyed the second letter, which he'd placed beside himself on the bedspread. That was the letter from Brian that Michael had referred to. For some reason, Justin itched to open it even more than the first, but he forced himself to finish reading the letter he'd already started.

After Michael's message, there was a part from Ben. In it, the handsome older man wished Justin well, and made suggestion to a few eastern practices that might help the absent man cope with his situation. Justin found himself appreciating the advice, but also dubious as to whether an attempt at _Qi gong _meditation was really going to help him now.

Following Ben's part, there was a message from Emmett and Ted, and then one from Justin's own mother. Hers was the hardest to read, because it was more painful than anything for the blonde vampire to realize that even his own _mother's _pleas for contact, failed to evoke any strong emotion. The last paragraph was written by either Lindsay or Melanie, but all the well-wishes were written in _we's _and _she and I's_, so it was difficult to tell which one of them thought he was "the bravest young man they'd ever met." Either way, Justin felt glad to know that he still had people who cared so deeply for him. He couldn't imagine how much _more _alone he would've felt, if he hadn't at least had that.

The letter from Brian was next. Justin picked it up with wary fingers. The older man had ignored him completely, the last time Justin had been holed up in rehab. Given that track record, it didn't exactly seem like Brian to be writing him letters filled with well wishes. Unfolding the page, Justin's eyes tracked the confident scrawl of the man he knew to be his lover,

_I'm not pissed that you had that will drawn up, or that you're a vampire,_

Blue eyes blinked in surprise at the unorthodox salutation. Leave it to Brian to skip over the formalities. The letter continued,

_And don't let that hot vampire—Aiden—tell you differently. I punched him a little, when I found out about you. That was just a gut reaction. I'm better now, and I have to say: it's no good, you being away. You need to come home. Your presence is sorely missed._

Justin raised his eyebrows at the page as he read. Given what he could remember of the other man, this wasn't what he'd expected from Brian.

_Your shit is all over this loft and I refuse to clean it up myself. I'm not your maid, so you'd better come back and take care of it. I could donate it, if you take too long. Like I said: it's really an inconvenience that you're so deep in hiding now. I have three new shows I want to TiVo, but you've got all those seasons of Planet Earth hogging up the space, plus episodes of… Antiques Roadshow? Who the fuck even watches Antiques Roadshow? I'll be deleting all of this stuff, if you don't come sort through it._

This was more like it. Justin thought. Should he feel insulted by the man's lack of heartfelt wishes? Should he feel a rush of fondness? He wished he could feel one or the other. This blank reaction within him was so much worse. Somehow, he thought that before this whole fiasco, he might have found Brian's letter amusing. He thought that he'd probably loved the older man. Hadn't he been obsessed with him? Sighing, Justin thought that only time would tell. He finished reading the paper, which had only been a short letter to begin with.

_I think a week is long enough, don't you? It's been almost that long. Two weeks if you count the time you spent vegetating in that bed. Justin… come home. Everyone else is so morose, it's killing me. And it's too damned quiet around here without you._

The letter was signed, _Love, Brian_. Justin squinted at the page. Was that unusual? _Love Brian_. He didn't think it was something his partner normally would have written. Had he eked out that one extra word, to try and convince Justin to return to him? Somehow, the artist thought so. But he also knew that he wouldn't be returning to live with Brian any time soon.

Maybe he did want it. Reflecting as he sat there upon the pale green of his single bed, Justin argued with himself that yes, moving back in with Brian would have been nice, in theory. Theoretically, it would be another step back to his old life, back to the old places and people that he'd involved himself with. But that was theory. In reality, Justin wasn't confident at all that he could go back to what he'd had there, with them, with _him_. The young man wasn't himself anymore, after all. He didn't think that simply arranging himself in the right scenery and company would suddenly bring everything back. Forlornly, he wondered if he'd ever get it back.

"…You're certainly shaping up to be an exemplary vampire," a voice sounded from the doorway of the little bedroom, making Justin jump. A wiry, black-haired man stood leaning against the doorjamb. "No vamp's ever sulked around as much as you since Brad Pitt in that depressing-ass movie."

"Interview with the vampire," Justin supplied, "And I'm not sulking."

"Could've fooled me." The form of Evan, Justin's newest acquaintance, moved further into the little bedroom. He straddled the desk chair backwards and asked, "Who're the letters from?"

"Hm?" Justin began folding both pages up, suddenly feeling embarrassed of them. "Oh, they're from some friends. They want to know how I'm doing and all that. You know."

The pale expanse of Evan's fingers rattled out an anxious pattern on the back of the desk chair, one of his usual nervous ticks. "Actually, I don't," he corrected. "My family hasn't written me since I wound up here."

Justin frowned, "_Six months_?"

"They didn't like me when I turned out to be gay. They certainly don't like me any better now." A caustic laugh emanated from Evan's lips. "But I don't give a shit what they think. They're idiots, and I don't waste my breath trying to educate idiots."

From his seat on the bed, Justin could only shrug. "I guess."

Since arriving at the home, the young artist had been spending more time with Evan than any of the other "residents" that lived there. Their similar age was part of the reason for that, but so was the fact that they were both gay. The rest of the home's inhabitants, as far as Justin could tell, were all breeders. Add an extremely boring living environment to that mix, and the two young vampires had stuck together like glue and paper.

Evan was opinionated, with intelligence and wit to back it up. Justin liked that. In a way, the wiry young man reminded him of a bit of Cody, before the Pink Posse had gotten out of control. But luckily, Evan seemed to have fewer anger issues. Just five days in, and Justin had a feeling that he could end up being very good friends with Evan. And since he was going to be spending eternity like this, Justin figured it probably couldn't hurt to socialize with people like himself.

"Will you put these in the drawer?" Justin asked, extending the now-folded letters.

"What? You're not going to write back?"

"Why should I?" He'd already confided to Evan, how his memory wasn't the best lately. "What would I say? _I've lost all emotional connection to you whatsoever, but thanks for the kind wishes_?" The new vampire scoffed, "I'm sure they'd love that."

"Anything's better than nothing," Evan insisted. "Trust me, I know."

Frowning, Justin felt a guilty for complaining at all. He thought about how lucky he was in comparison to the other young vampire. Evan may have had a head start, but they were both basically going through the same stuff. More than anything, seeing how lonely Evan was made Justin want to get his memories back. No way did the blonde man want to end up, isolated and still eking out an existence in the sterile safe house, half a year from then. He had people who loved him. Maybe he should get a move on with trying to remember how much he loved them, too.

"Okay," Justin caved. "I'll… write something tomorrow."

"Or you could call," Evan hedged. "Hey, the sooner you act like the rest of the world exists, the sooner you'll be able to leave this suckfest. Reintegrate with society, and all that good stuff."

Justin raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, says the guy who's lived here for six months."

"Hey," Evan smiled. "You can't beat the rent."

Despite his semi-permanent state of brooding, Justin laughed. The two young men eventually left the boring little room, and spent the rest of the day watching television. And as tedious as life in "the home" was, the young blonde man knew it would have been worse without his newly acquired companion. They kept each other entertained and in good company, whiling away the extra sleepless hours with idle chat and stupid jokes. Justin hadn't acclimated to his new life yet; not by far. But he _had _made a new friend, and that helped big time.

It wouldn't be until the following day that Justin thought of the people from his old life again.


	9. Chapter 9

Two large, burly men watched nervously as the well-known head waitress of the Liberty Diner approached their table. "What can I get you boys?" Debbie asked with a hip cocked, tone absolutely deflated from its usual buoyancy.

The larger of the two men, who donned a black biker cap and unshaven scruff, ventured, "Um… I'll have the tuna melt with chips."

"…Me too. With fries please," the other followed timidly.

The woman raised her eyebrows menacingly, prompting the second diner to meekly amend his order, "No ketchup." A wise nod was given by the waitress, and both men were able to breathe a sigh of relief as she walked away, this time without throwing anything at them. The pair had made the mistake of making vampire jokes with their food the week before, and as a result had had to take their orders to-go. …Down the fronts of their shirts.

"Christ," Michael muttered, looking over his shoulder from where he sat at the gang's usual booth, "She's even turning the leather daddies into lambskins!"

"Sounds like a porno," Ted remarked casually.

"I'd rent it," Brian spouted, scrolling absently through his missed calls. "Sounds hot."

"You'd know, you're the expert."

Michael only received a childish scowl from his friend at that, "Suck my jockstrap, Mikey."

"—I don't see what the big deal was," Emmett was considering aloud. "A little ketchup and French fry fangs…" The man chuckled. "Well I for one think he would've found it funny, if he'd been here." The wistful man didn't have to elaborate on who "he" was. Everyone present knew.

"Yeah well he's not is he? Don't let my mom hear you talking about him either," Michael hissed. "I just want to eat my lunch in peace today."

"He _would _have found it funny," the other man insisted. Emmett's caring face adopted its previous look of absentminded wondering as he went back to sipping at the straw of his sweet tea.

It was nearly twelve thirty, and the hustle and bustle of Liberty Avenue's lunch rush was busy pouring itself through the diner's doors. Luckily, Deborah wasn't the only server rushing around the place. If Kiki and the new temp—Damien—hadn't been there to help the stressed woman, the four men seated along the back wall surely would have gotten another show of _something _being thrown all over the front of _somebody. _

"Do you think he has internet access where he is?" Emmett was now wondering—again, about Justin. "Maybe he still checks his email! Someone should try emailing him."

From his hunched posture near the wall, Brian rolled his eyes. By noon that second Friday at the Liberty Diner, talk of Justin had peaked as the main topic for the day. _Again_. And the lord of their social circle had just about had enough of it. It'd been almost two weeks since anyone had seen or heard from him, after all. Besides, _he'd_ already tried email. "Hey," he chirped artificially, in an attempt to keep that day's lunch from being EXACTLY like every other one the past ten work days, "I heard the DOW dropped a few hundred points this morning!"

"I think he would have email… Do you think he's allowed to come and go whenever he wants? I know they said it was voluntary commitment, but 'commitment' sounds so _serious."_

"Emm, you're the reason why they call it a Drama 'queen'," Ted admonished. "Of course he can leave. It's just like a halfway house."

"Halfway to what?"

Ted shot his elaborate friend a disbelieving look. "Never mind. Just know that Justin's probably fine. He's doing what he has to, to get himself in order. I'm sure he's perfectly happy."

"Really, Teddy?" Brian simpered, "You're 'sure'?" He scoffed. "You don't know anything. None of us does. We're all just pretending that we do, to make ourselves feel better. But the reality is that we don't have a fucking clue." That _was _the reality after all, the smartly-dressed executive told himself. Justin hadn't had contact with any one of them. Not even Brian himself. The dark-haired man didn't want to admit to anyone—least of all himself—how distressing that really was. Shrugging, he added blithely, "The kid could be in a padded cell, wrapped up in some straight jacket, and we wouldn't know any better."

"Jesus Brian! He's got vampirism, not schizophrenia," Michael groused. "Try to lighten up a little"—and then, more quietly—"Mom's only stopped sniffling since like, yesterday."

All four pairs of eyes at the booth slid covertly over to the red-headed waitress who was now pouring coffee for two patrons by the bar. Deb's expression was calm, but the edges of her eyes still seemed raw, and ready to leak again of need should arise. For their own good, said bar patrons kept their wallets out and their lips shut.

"I'm sure Justin is _fine _Emmett," Michael offered again in comfort to the self-appointed caretaker of the group.

"Gee," Brian drawled, taking a hefty bite from his sandwich. "_That _must be why he's ignoring all your letters."

"The vampire at the hospital said he'd delivered them, all right?" Michael looked furiously from his provocative friend, over to Emmett's worried countenance, and back. "Why don't you stop talking like that, huh? It's freaking everyone out."

"Just trying to make conversation," Brian smiled, saccharine. "Since he's the only god-damned thing you can talk about any more." Spitting out a bite of sandwich that _clearly_ had mayo on it, Brian wiped angrily at his lips, "Am I the only one with any sanity left?"

Emmett stared morosely down at Brian's abused bite of sandwich. "I wonder what he eats, now."

"What do you mean, 'you wonder'?" Ted shrugged, "He's the living dead. The living dead drink blood."

The accountant's no-frills assessment brought a near wince to Emmett's face. "I can't imagine that sweet little twinky drinking blood," he moped. "…He helped me reorganize my closet last month."

"Are those activities mutually exclusive?" Everyone at the table tried their best to ignore Brian's quip, so instead he informed, "I've been thinking: I'm going to hire a private detective."

All eyes turned to him, refocusing the lost attention back to where Brian Kinney most liked it: on himself. "Do people really do that?" Michael asked. It sounded like something that only happened in the plotline of a good comic.

Brian shrugged, "Do you have any better ideas?" Brian didn't. And Justin staying away like this with no contact whatsoever was simply not acceptable. Not to him. The thought of actually facing the dramatically-changed young man was seeming less and less disturbing a prospect, the longer he had to go on living without his favorite blonde by his side.

"Private detectives aren't cheap," Ted was calculating. "Are you sure you've got the money for that?"

"Theodore, you just helped me acquire a fifty-thousand dollar "for fun" investment," Brian said witheringly, referring to the club that was second home to them all. "You of all people should know I can afford to pay some creeper to dig around for our 'lost boy'."

Reaching to place a hand consolingly on his best friend's thigh, Michael confided gently, "I hope you find him."

Were it anyone else's hand, Brian might have removed it. Hell, with the emotional state he'd been in lately, and what with all the god-damned effort it took to _hide _that very emotional state from absolutely everyone, absolutely every freaking hour of every day; well that almost had him removing Michael's hand as it was. But he accepted the gesture because it was from a dear friend who genuinely cared. And because it was done under the table and out of sight.

Standing suddenly, Brian climbed over top of Michael to exit the booth. Straightening the lines of his suit as best he could, the groomed man nodded to them all. "Well, it's been lovely having this meaningful chat with you all, _again_, but I must be going. Lots of clients waiting to be whored out in the best fashion possible."

"TaTa," Michael said dismissively. "Since you've made it obvious that you're too busy to worry like the rest of us mere mortals, I guess I'll call and let you know if anything should happen."

"Sure thing, emoticon," Brian responded distractedly. "And hey, if it looks like your mom's cheered up, let her know there was mayo on my lunch, kay?"

All three remaining men at the table scoffed as they watched him leave, sauntering off without so much as a wave goodbye. There he was—the sun to every gay man on Liberty Avenue's universe—ready to head off in his perfect hair and perfect suit, back to his perfect job in his perfect office, before heading home in his perfect car, to his perfect loft, to undoubtedly do something perfectly pleasurable with his perfect body. Indeed, everything in Brian Kinney's life still seemed to be relatively perfect. Even his attitude in dealing with this most recent crisis was more balanced than most others'—in a word, _perfect_. But there was one thing that wasn't perfect in Brian's current life: Justin wasn't in it.

And despite how well he hid it, that one _im_perfectionwas eating away at the older man, day by day.

Brian sauntered down the hallway of _Kinnetic_, headed for his office. After lunch at the diner, he'd returned to throw himself into his work—something that, in the past, had always worked wonders in taking his mind off of more serious matters. The _Tropica_ group, a subsidiary of _Dannon_, was trying to get more men to eat its yogurt. Apparently, healthful dairy products were largely a women's market.

"How'd the meeting go?" Cynthia asked as the dark-haired man approached.

"Completely unoriginal," Brian admitted, "but they liked the idea so we're going forward with it." The only 'idea' that the handsome executive had been able to come up with for these people's nasty yogurt had been a commercial. Sexualized, of course. "We're going to film some hetero hottie licking it off her boyfriend's abs," Brian offered, returning his assistant's cattish smirk. "Dark color schemes, low music; the masculine works. You think Mark would eat it?"

At the mention of her fiancé, the blonde shrugged, "As long as it wasn't blueberry."

"We were thinking… banana." Brian waggled his eyebrows, causing Cynthia to giggle,

"I'm sure the art department didn't think this one up. A level of innuendo that crude has 'Brian Kinney' written all over it. Personal inspiration, I'm guessing?"

The smartly-dress man nodded proudly, concealing how close to home the truth really hit. "Something like that." Glancing to the far wall, Brian could see clear as day, the memory of Justin and he in the loft:

"_One spoonful left. You want it?"_

"_No, it'll mean ten more minutes on the stairmaster."_

"_Come on… I want to see you lick it off the spoon."_

_Messy drops of cold vanilla on his nose, his lips, his chest. And Justin cackling, bending down to lick it all back up._

"God damn it," Brian cursed under his breath. It had been _years_ ago. Why the fuck did he have to remember every stupid touch they'd ever had, now?

"Everything all right Boss?"

Brian re-focused his gaze. Christ. It wasn't' like him at all to be zoning off like this. _Get it together, Kinney_, his inner drill-sergeant commanded. "Yeah," he answered. "Any messages while I was gone?"

"No, but you've got three people on the line."

Brian raised his eyebrows, moving straight away for his office door. "Wow, I feel popular." Three calls when he'd only been detained for a brief twenty minute meeting was a lot, even for him. "I don't care who they are, just transfer them in the order they came," he instructed, closing the cold glass door behind him. Brian Kinney really had no patience for phone call hierarchy politics that day.

At his desk, Brian picked up the receiver to the landline. "Kinney," he greeted brusquely.

"Brian?"

The voice that greeted him was soft and tenuous. _Jennifer_. Brian sighed, "Hello, Mrs. Taylor."

"I just wanted to check in on you," she said plainly. "And ask how everyone there is doing."

Picking up a pencil to fiddle with, Brian shrugged, unseen. "Fine. You'd know better if you were here." The blonde woman had chosen to fly halfway back across the country, not a week after they'd all found out about Justin's new… status. Brian couldn't say he completely understood. Justin was her _son_, after all. How could she not feel the need, the driving desperation to be as close to him as possible in a time like this? Brian sure did. And as far off the map as the little fucker had gone, the older man seriously doubted that Justin had made it all the way to _Arizona._

"I know you don't approve," Jennifer was stating, voice dry, "but Brian I've got Molly to think of over here, she's barely fourteen."

"Your son was barely alive," Brian countered. Shit, what were babysitters for anyways?

"Maybe calling like this was a mistake. I just wanted…. Well I don't know what I wanted," she hedged. "Has he called? Written? Anything?"

Glancing over to the tacky frame on his desk, Brian shook his head, realized he couldn't' be seen, and answered, "No. I'll let you know if he does."

"Okay." Jennifer already knew about his plans to hire a professional to track Justin down. And she hadn't dissuaded him yet. So the woman only answered with a closing plea of, "Please don't say anything… mean, to him. When he comes back."

Brian scowled at the receiver. How much of a dick did she think he was? "I won't," he insisted. Besides, Justin hadn't even contacted him yet, let alone come back. Being mean to the younger man was a long way off. "Bye."

"Talk to you later," Jennifer hung up, leaving Brian to take his next call.

"Kinney," he answered the phone, greeting and tone of voice identical to what Jennifer had gotten. This time a man spoke up, his voice unfamiliar to the dark-haired executive.

"Is this… are you Brian Kinney?"

"No, this is Richard Kinney. I'm just sitting at Brian's desk, in Brian's office, answering Brian's phone," the provocative man answered shortly.

"Sorry. I've been trying to get a hold of Justin. He hasn't answered his cell in weeks. I've called dozens of times."

Hazel eyes slid back to the framed picture of said young man, giving his million-watt smile. Brian wrinkled his brow, "_Who_ are you?" What guy would be calling Justin on his cell phone dozens of times? One-time fucks weren't _that_ persistent.

"I'm Kai. …Justin's instructor?" the man added hesitantly at the long pause over the line.

Brian's eyes widened. _Oh_. "You're the guy who beats him up all the time," he stated matter-of-factly.

"What? No! He's my student, we spar. Practice?" The crackle of Kai's sigh could be heard over the line. "Never mind. He told me how much you hate it."

_You're damned right, I do, _Brian thought bitterly. "It's hard to fuck properly when your boyfriend's got bruised ribs," he explained instead.

"…Riight. Look, I was just calling to figure out what's going on. He's missed five classes and that's not like him. Did he change his number or something?"

Brian didn't plan to say what he did next. Really, he honestly didn't give it any thought. The words just seemed to fall from his lips, unbidden: "He died. Two weeks ago."

Silence. Utter silence on the other end of the call. Brian waited guiltily for the other man to speak, and when Kai finally found his voice he uttered, "Oh my god. That's awful. I just can't believe it. How… _how_?"

"Motorcycle accident," Brian muttered. "Apparently you got him hooked to the thrills of life." It was a MEAN thing to say, the self-centered man could admit. Especially to a man whom he'd never even met. But the frustrations that had accumulated during the coma, and now during Justin's prolonged absence, had been building, and just like Aiden, this man could be his target. "So you can stop trying to call him," he added. "And fill the empty spot in your stupid class."

"I'm so sorry," the other man sputtered, before dead hanging up.

Brian held the phone away from his ear at the dial tone, impressed. Hardly anybody ever hung up on him. "Good riddance," he muttered. Later, he might spare a thought for what a shitty thing he'd done to the clueless instructor. _Might_. But right then he was consoled by the fact that he'd at least managed to drive one harmful influence out of Justin's life. If the blonde ever decided to return to it, that was.

"Brian," Cynthia's sharp voice rang through the office's intercom. "There's still a call on the third line. Are you going to—"

"Yeah, I've got it," Brian answered hurriedly, finger pressed to the machine's response button. "Maybe you should learn to field my calls better," he admonished, "Like, say, so that they're mainly _business_ calls?"

The blonde receptionist didn't even hesitate in her response. She was far too familiar with her employer's abusive behaviors. "Trust me," she drawled. "I think you're going to want to take this one."

Brian sighed and released the intercom button, silencing the link between them. "_Sure_," he chewed out. Yet again, he found his eyes drawn almost magnetically to the picture of Justin on his desk. He'd rather stare at him, than take calls and conduct business as usual. Frowning at the threat of strong emotion he could feel coming on, Brian reached forward and snapped the frame flat to the desk. "Fuck. you," he said. If Justin couldn't be bothered to come home, then he certainly didn't get to antagonize the man from afar. Brian wouldn't have it.

"Kinney," he greeted generically into the phone yet again.

"Brian."

Brian lost his breath. It was Justin, and the sound of his voice, not heard for so long, simply had the air rushing right out of Brian's lungs. _He'd called. He was alive. He was sitting somewhere, holding a phone in his hand, talking to him. _The older man didn't know if he felt more excited to finally hear from him, or terrified that he'd hang up and end the connection.

"Brian?" Justin's voice came over the line, confused at the long silence. "Are you there?"

Brian blinked, "Yeah. Where are you?" It was the only thing he could think to say. His mind was still racing with shock.

"I'm at the home… it's a safehouse where they put me up. Until I'm better."

"Better from what?" Brian shifted uncomfortably in his very expensive, usually very comfortable desk chair. "The bloodsucker said you were doing alright."

"…You mean Aiden?" Justin asked, perplexed.

"Yeah him. He said you weren't, you know: in any pain or anything."

"Pain's a relative term," Justin mumbled, but the older man heard him. He sounded so tired over the phone, and maybe sad too. Brian couldn't decide. All he knew was that he didn't sound happy. He didn't sound like _Sunshine_. "But I'm doing alright, I guess," Justin was saying. "It's hard."

_It's hard_. Brian couldn't imagine. He knew what "_it" _was. Justin was undead now. A vampire. The frozen executive licked his lips, not sure what to say, but definitely feeling as if he was missing his one opportunity to communicate with his long-absent lover. "Did you get my letter?" he asked lamely, referring to the note he'd written over a week ago.

"Yeah, I got it."

"Well? Why haven't you answered anybody? They're all worried," Brian couldn't help but to complain. _He_ was worried. "For all we knew, that bloodsu—sorry, _Aiden_—could have buried you in a ditch somewhere."

"Sorry?" The blonde's apology was delivered with a question mark, and that had Brian frowning in concern. Why the hell did the kid sound so befuddled? He wondered if Justin's IQ had been impacted by the coma. "I needed some time to myself," he explained. "I didn't mean to make everyone worry."

"You sound so different," Brian observed quietly.

"I am different."

"Where are you?"

Justin's sigh sounded over the line. "I told you: I'm at the home. That's what we call it. Where are you?"

"The office."

"Oh." Suddenly Justin sounded unsure. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were at work."

"I own work, remember? I can do whatever the fuck I want." Glancing around the austere room in which he sat, Brian commented suggestively, "You could come by to see me, given you still remember the way here?" Confident that his growled jab at the other man's absence did not go unnoticed, Brian explained, "I had this really cool stuff installed. It's called 'smart glass.' The room can be completely obscured in a matter of seconds."

"Sounds… useful."

The young artist's voice held a disturbing lack of sexual interest. Disturbing to Brian at least. Didn't he want to fuck over the couch in his office? Justin _always_ wanted to fuck over the couch in his office. Or the coffee table, or the desk. He always said seeing Brian in his "professional mode" made him hot for it. "It is," Brian hedged in careful response. "Well, useful in more than one way for you I suppose. Not that this building gets much sunlight anyways." He paused, thinking of something important for the first time. "Hey wait. It's daytime, shouldn't you be…"

"What?" Justin could be heard chuckling, "In a coffin?"

"They don't—_you_ don't do that." Brian rolled his eyes. "Give me a little credit. Jesus I do watch the news sometimes. ..So you don't sleep during the day?"

"I haven't learned waking state yet," the blonde answered, and even over the line, Brian could tell that whatever "waking state" was, the blonde was very frustrated over it. "It's what they do instead of sleep."

"They?"

"The other residents here," Justin explained.

_The other residents. There were others. _Brian blinked. Justin was holed up in an awful institution, probably having to share a room with someone, a bathroom with half the hall, while he faced this unthinkably difficult situation by himself. He had no one to help him, no one to tell him jokes or take him out when he got bored, no one to fuck him slow and perfect when he was sad_. _Brian sealed his lips tightly and pulled the phone from his face for a moment. _He shouldn't be in some state-run "home,"_ he thought_. He should be here, with me._ There was a long pause wherein the older man was overcome by the strongest wave of desire yet, to have his lover back with him. While Brian worked on not falling prey to his urge to crumple, Justin wondered if he'd hung up,

"Brian?" the younger man's voice could be heard calling through the receiver. "Brian are you still there?"

"Yeah," Brian rasped, having brought the phone back to his face. "Yeah I'm here. And you need to come home."

"…I just wanted to call and tell you I'm alright."

"And to come see me, right? To come home?" Any other answer was simply ludicrous, in Brian's mind. Justin couldn't stay away forever. Hadn't two weeks been enough?

"Brian… I don't think so. I'm dealing with a lot of stuff. Stuff I'm not sure I can even explain—"

"I have a master's in business and advertising, and I still remember your verbal score on the SAT," Brian responded dryly. "I think that if you try to explain, I'll be able to grasp it."

Justin could be heard groaning on his end of the line. "I can't come back to live with you."

"You can," Brian insisted. "I'll come get you. Where are you?"

"The Perry Home for Wayward Youth…" Justin admitted quietly.

"_What_?"

"They haven't renamed it yet," the other man defended. "I don't think they really know what to call it."

"I'll bet. Get your shit together," Brian announced, having decided. "I'll pick you up in an hour."

"Brian!" The blonde's distressed tone completely baffled the larger man, as he listened to him complain, "I _told_ you. I can't come back. I'm not ready."

"I'll make you."

"Well you'll have to carry me out of here because I'm not going," Justin threatened obstinately.

"Princess, you weigh a hundred fifty pounds soaking wet on a fat day. I _could_ carry you."

"One-sixty," Justin complained, "Muscle mass, hello?" His tone calming, he repeated, "I'm not ready. You don't… you couldn't understand what's happened."

Bullshit, Brian wanted to say. But he refrained from such a bold statement. Justin clearly wasn't in his right mind now. Maybe he was traumatized by the whole experience, or maybe he was embarrassed by his new state of being (which they'd barely discussed). Whatever it was that was causing this hesitation, the older man knew that he could overcome it. After all, if anyone knew how to win an argument by means other than arguing, it was Brian Kinney.

"Fine then," he amended. "I'll come get you and we can just go somewhere to talk. How's that sound?" Brian had no intention of going somewhere to talk, only to return the kid to his self-imposed exile, but that could be left unsaid for the time being.

Justin's reply to the proposition was delayed, but when it came, it was tentatively in the affirmative. "Alright. I'll meet you. To _talk_. But I'll come out on my own."

"To the loft," Brian inserted. "You've still got all your crap lying around. I didn't lie in my letter; I haven't picked it up."

"Yeah," Justin's voice sounded, practical and with purpose. "Yeah I'll come get my stuff."

"There, now see: that wasn't so hard." Brian's words came lightly, but in truth he was about as relieved as he could be in that very moment. Justin had called him and he'd finally heard his sweet voice again. More importantly, the cunning executive now knew where the little twat had holed himself up, and could track him down in the future, if need be. But MOST importantly, he was going to see him again, and soon. "I'm sure you remember where we live?" he asked pointedly, being sure to say _we _instead of _I_.

"…I remember."

Good, Brian thought with a nod. With the strange, hollow way Justin was speaking over the phone, he'd half-worried that the blonde would be announcing some tragic case of amnesia. He really didn't sound like himself. "I'll see you soon Justin," he said gently into the phone, using his lover's given name. Brian's voice was bereft of any sarcasm or pretense as he ended the call, saying finally "…I missed you."

Justin didn't respond before he hung up, but it didn't really matter. Because soon they'd be together again.


	10. Chapter 10

Brian had been home for a few hours before he ever heard the elevator purring. It was eight o'clock. He was wearing his jeans and black tank—an outfit that he'd deliberately selected, but never would have admitted as much. Something chill and slow was playing from the stereo at near sub-human hearing range. That and the drink he'd poured meant to calm his nerves. He'd just started sipping the sidecar when the expected knock on the door came. He walked over to open it, not quite knowing what to expect. The heavy metal barrier to the exterior world slid open, and behind it, Justin's face was revealed.

"Hi," he said quietly, looking unsure as to whether he should step in.

Brian stared at him for a moment, taking the sight in. His hair had grown exponentially, but that was the weirdest change that the darker man could observe. He was wearing some of the clothes that Brian himself had stuffed into the duffle bag of false hopes, track pants and a long sleeve tee making him look smaller than he was. Justin stood there and looked straight at him, blinking, breathing, _existing_. "I can't believe it," Brian murmured.

He'd never thought he'd see this again. Sunshine, _his _Justin, awake. Alive. That face, those blinking eyes. It was all far more beautiful a sight than he'd ever given it credit for. To see _life _in it again was like a breath of fresh air that he hadn't realized he'd needed. Gesturing with the stemless martini glass in his hand, he prompted breathlessly, "Come in." The dark-haired man turned around as Justin entered the apartment, if only to keep himself from enveloping the blonde in his arms that very second. He needed to breathe before he could do anything more. _Breathe, you idiot! Jesus._

The door groaned shut, and Brian was able to venture, "You waited for the sun to set?" He'd taken far longer than an hour to show up.

"Yeah. I can't walk around in direct light." Justin said. He didn't sound overly happy to be there. In fact he sounded a little on edge. Brian wondered what the other man felt he had to be nervous about.

"I meant what I said in the letter," Brian broached, thinking that this must be what had Justin tense. "I don't care that you're… a vampire." He might not have said the same thing, weeks ago. But weeks had taught the older man that there were worse things than being a vampire. Like killing the person you loved. Justin hadn't responded. That, more than anything, had Brian turning around. The blonde was still standing in the threshold of the loft, as if he were afraid to come in any further. "Did you hear me?" he asked, stepping closer. "I don't care."

Pretty, empty blue eyes stared up at his taller height, the young man shrugging. "Thank you."

Brian frowned at the strange reaction—or maybe lack thereof—from his lover. "Come here," he husked, winding his free arm behind Justin's back. His move caused the young artist to drop the large bag he'd brought, to the floor. He pulled him closer, until their chests touched. "You look like you're practically in pain," he whispered near the other man's lips. "Stop it."

"Brian," Justin breathed, even as the older man took a kiss from him. "I have a lot I have to tell you," he tried again, as he was coerced into light kisses. "Important stuff—" another kiss silenced him, and Justin found that he had to pull away, to get the chance to speak again. "Wait," he pleaded, a little breathless. Brian was just doing what he always did, the younger man knew. He couldn't blame him. But he also couldn't continue before explaining. …Even if he did like the other man's mouth on his.

Brian was eyeing him quizzically. Taking a distracting sip from his glass, he asked, "What? Are you afraid I'll cut myself on your teeth?" The comment, meant to be carefree, caused the younger man to run his tongue self-consciously along his canines. Brian frowned, "Hey, I didn't mean it." He tried to reach for his re-found lover's wrist to pull him back, but Justin evaded again. With a screwed up brow, the more experienced man asked, "Hey. _Hey_: what are you doing?" The smaller form of the young artist had moved to stand away, closer to the living room couch than to Brian himself. He looked borderline uncomfortable. "Justin?" the perplexed man asked again. "What's wrong?" If the kid was self-conscious or traumatized or whatever from what'd happened to him, Brian was sure that he could help them work through it. He'd done it once before, after all.

"I came here to talk," the blonde hedged, "I _have_ to explain some things to you. Will you sit over here and listen?" Afraid that Brian would become frustrated with him, he added, "Please? It's very important."

Raising his eyebrows, the other man padded barefoot over to the sofa to sit. He watched as Justin slowly came to join him, just a cushion away from where the older man really wanted him to be. _Why the six degrees of separation_? Brian wondered. He also wondered if maybe this was going to be harder than he'd thought. The intention had been to coax the kid over for a "talk," and then to have him stay anyways. But Justin wasn't exactly acting as if this was some grand reunion or kick start off into their life again. He seemed practically recalcitrant.

The dark-haired man took another sip from his drink, busying his hands with the glass to keep himself from reaching for the young vampire again. "Okay," he offered, trying to sound as open and accommodating as possible, "I'm all ears."

From his seat just down the couch, Justin seemed to be looking for the right words to start. "I said I can't stay here. I meant it." At Brian's highly displeased look, the younger man tried again, "I know you probably thought I'd come here and you'd change my mind, but that's not what I want. I uh, I changed a lot, since I saw you last."

"I can tell," Brian said dryly. And when the heck had the little brat gotten so good at reading his intentions? Brian repressed a frown.

Blue eyes shot up to fix an unnaturally-clear stare at the older man. "I'm not dead." Justin could remember the careless things Brian had sometimes said in conversation in the past, about vampires. "You know that, right?"

"I haven't been pouring over medical journals, but I'm familiar with the basics," Brian drawled. "Wikipedia has its uses. Do you want to explain why you think that means you can't come back?"

An unhappy smirk twisted the young man's lips. _Wikipedia indeed. "_Well… I'm stuck inside during the day now. I can't be in the sun. Hell, I can barely stand it through the windows."

"I'll get smart glass installed in the loft."

Justin smiled sadly at the other man's helpful solution. "It has to do with sounds and colors too. It's getting easier, but things are still too vivid sometimes." Sighing, he continued, "I don't sleep. I'm working on doing this waking sleep thing that the others can do, but until I get it, there are almost twelve full hours that I'm stuck indoors all day. It gets really boring."

"I'll buy you a Wii," Brian offered.

"My hair grows ridiculously fast. I have to get it cut every couple of days."

"We'll keep a stylist on retainer. You like Nando from my salon, right?"

Justin rolled his eyes. "I'm rough without meaning to be. I might hurt you."

"Oh," Brian snorted, "Sorry then, you never get to top me again."

"I can't eat real food anymore!"

"I'll stock the fridge with blood."

Frowning, the blonde tried again, "…I can't get an erection unless I've eaten."

"I'll stock the fridge with _LOTS _of blood."

"Brian," Justin groaned, feeling as if he was getting nowhere. "Please just understand. I can't move back in with you."

"WHY. NOT?" The dark-haired man glared. It wasn't as if he wasn't giving perfectly reasonable solutions to every lame excuse the younger man was offering up.

"Because I don't…" Justin cut off.

Transferring his drink, Brian let his right hand creep over to rest atop the other man's. "What is it?" he asked gently. Despite his enduring confidence, Brian felt a dark shadow of doubt cloud over him at the blonde's tragic expression. "Because you don't what?"

"…Because I don't remember you."

_Oh. Shit. _Brian stared, then shirked away. He abandoned Justin's hand there on the couch, watching as the other man drew it back into himself. "What do you mean?" he said flippantly. "You remember me."

"I do," the blonde admitted quietly. "I can remember everything we've ever done together."

"Then what the fuck are you talking about?!"

Justin was unbelievably still and quiet where he sat. "Emotions, Brian."

"…Emotions?"

Justin nodded, explaining, "All of my feelings that I had for the people I know, even certain places and events from my past; they're just… gone. I don't feel affection, sympathy, amusement, _nothing _in relation to my memories. It's like I have a bunch of memories about people who are strangers to me. I feel like a robot experienced those things, not me."

Brian stared, and then choked out a laugh. "What?" he said, face screwed up in a disbelieving smile. Despite the smile, something cold and immovable was beginning to ball up tight in his chest. This had to be fucking bullshit. It _had _to be. But the look on Sunshine's face said that it wasn't. The look on his face was telling Brian that something was seriously psychologically wrong with the young man. Turning away, Brian downed the remaining third of his drink in one go.

"Brian… don't—"

"—What are you even saying?" the older man shot out, standing abruptly to walk over to the loft's windows, through which he fixed his gaze. "That you have emotional amnesia?"

"I don't know if it has a name," Justin said, sounding downright ashamed.

Brian had to squeeze his eyes shut at that sound in the other man's voice. "It's has a name alright. It's called 'you need to check yourself into therapy'."

"Hey! That's not fair," Justin argued from behind. He _was _in therapy. "You don't know what I'm going through!"

"That's because you're refusing to stick around long enough to let me figure it out!" Spinning around, Brian stalked back over to where his young lover sat. Leaning down to grab him by the shoulders, the dark-haired man captured his mouth in a bruising kiss. "Come here," he said lowly, using his leverage to pull the other man up. He shoved their hips together, ran his fingers through blonde hair that was inches longer than when he'd last seen the kid. Then his hands were all over the younger man, trying with all he had to drive these stupid ideas from his mind, and replace them with something better.

A groan, barely audible, issued from Justin's parted lips as Brian made every effort to remind the blonde of a very good reason that he should stay. Justin watched with barely-opened eyes as the other man's fingers smoothed over his waist, grabbing him through his tee shirt. Brian had the _best _hands. They were large and strong and graceful. And they looked so good when they were grabbing all over Justin's own body. It was so hot, even now.

His pulse racing, he knew he'd start being noticeably aroused in a minute if the older man kept at it. The confused vampire squeezed his eyes shut at the way Brian was touching him_. Oh god, stop_. Their touches, their pleasure, the way Brian had always fucked him and made love to him. It wasn't as if he couldn't remember how good it had been. It wasn't as if he didn't know how good it would feel now, to stay and let Brian do all of those things to him again.

"Say it again," Brian challenged, biting at his Adam's apple. "Say you don't remember. That you don't have feelings for me." He grasped and mouthed at the body of the man in his arms, and with the way he could feel the kid relaxing, his breath quickening with arousal, Brian really thought he had him. He moved his hands to the edge of the track pants, fingers slipping under the elastic waist. The edge of Brian's mouth curled in satisfaction as he felt the evidence of his attentions, pressing hard against his searching hand. He had him.

Until Justin pulled himself forcefully back, that was. His breathing was fast, his face flushed, and it only made the older man want to pull him in again. But despite the sudden rush of desire, Justin was able to grind it all to a shuddering halt as he hastily insisted, "I don't have feelings for you!"

After he'd said it, and Brian had stepped back as if stung, the young vampire would feel a wave of regret run through him at the way he'd shouted it so. But he simply couldn't let Brian go on clawing at him, mistaking his physical reaction for love or anything close to it. It wasn't fair to either of them. "I'm sorry," the blonde reflexively spit out. I should… go."

Brian was still standing there, looking very confused, a little hurt, and _very _angry because of it. "Don't do this," he said, "You're just confused."

"I am confused," Justin admitted, "but not about this. I don't remember you, and a quick fuck isn't going to fix that."

"You'd be surprised how much a quick fuck is good for," the other man said darkly.

"Brian, stop it." Justin could tell that this was about to reach the point where Brian would be nasty. The blonde stepped further away, extricating himself from his lover's grasp. "I just need to get some of my things. I'm thinking about moving back to the studio."

"That shithole?" Brian scoffed. Unhappy to hear of that inferior plan, he stalked over to the kitchen to pour himself another drink, this one straight. "So I'm what? A fucking stranger now?"

"I shouldn't have come," Justin averted, watching as Brian downed his new glass much too quickly. "This was a mistake. It's only hurting you." _And it'll hurt every other person I try to explain it to_. The young vampire felt his insides clench, and he turned to look away from the angry visage of his ex-lover. He wasn't going to be able to do it. He should have just stayed away. Just as he'd predicted, "I'm sorry," was not going to be enough.

"I'm trying to understand," Brian's voice sounded from where he leant against the counter, a little less angry-sounding now. "But you've got to admit, princess, this sounds really nuts."

"Don't call me princess," Justin mumbled halfheartedly. He didn't see it, but the reprimand caused Brian to smile fondly,

"You never did like nicknames," and then, hesitantly, "Am I really so much of a stranger that you can't even stay the night?"

Justin bit his lip, wanting to please Brian but knowing that he couldn't. "I _want_ to remember how I felt about you. I can tell it was huge. It was… wonderful. But I can't feel those things, no matter how hard I wish. You look like some hot guy I met at the club, except that I have this long history with you …It's like waking up from a dream that you know you had in such vivid detail, but that you can't quite remember anymore. I had a dream about you. And now I've woken up and it's gone." Somehow, Justin found the courage to raise his eyes and face the gorgeous form of his partner again. "I can't be with you, acting like everything's the same, because it's not."

More alcohol was choked down from the glass. Pretty soon, it seemed, he'd have to move onto drinking straight from the bottle. "Pretend," Brian cajoled, the closest he'd ever come to begging.

"You're not a trick. You shouldn't be treated like one." Justin shook his head sadly. "But if I stay…"

"—That's all I'll be?" Brian asked, features now wavering between angry and devastated. He wanted to say that he didn't care, that Justin could stay and trick all he wanted. But for some moronic reason, he instead uttered, "You really don't love me anymore, do you?" Justin had to look away to the floor at the weighted question, but Brian didn't ask again. He found that he'd gotten all the answer he needed. His boy wonder, the man whom he'd let in further than anyone else, didn't love him anymore. And even though he'd hardly ever said it back when offered the words, it had been nice to know that Justin at least felt that way about him. "I guess I'll have to go find a new stalker," Brian muttered acerbically into his drink.

"…I'll get my things," Justin said plainly, after the longest, most unbearable silence had stretched between them for what felt like forever. He went over to the loft's door where he'd dropped the large bag. It was only now that Brian noticed how empty it looked. He'd brought it to fill it with things, not to unpack, the older man realized, heart aching.

Justin went around the loft quickly, removing all the last remaining traces of himself that Brian had so complained about. He took his toothpaste and razor off the bathroom vanity, his clean clothes out of the closet and the balled-up pajama pants from the foot of the bed. He gathered his disorganized shoes, a few books, and his digital drawing equipment, and stowed all of it away in the bag. And finally, he deleted all of his programs off the TiVo. Justin never saw it, but that last action had the stoic man in the kitchen wincing. He hesitated at the door, intending to apologize, but Brian's angry gaze watered at him from the kitchen, effectively cutting off anything he might have said.

_You're making a huge mistake, _Brian thought, though whether he was thinking that about himself, or Justin, he couldn't quite decide. Maybe _he _was making a huge mistake, by not tackling the other man right then and there, and _making_ him reconsider. Brian wanted to say that: if he wasn't going to stay, then was Justin at least going to visit? He wanted to ask: was he going to call anymore or was he going to hole himself up again? He wanted to know: was he going to do anything at all to try and get his memory back, or was this all fucked? But Brian didn't ask any of those things. The shielded man refused to stick his neck out, and instead simply stood there, staring anywhere but at the young man who was getting ready to walk right back out of his life.

Justin spared him a glance at the door, but it went unreturned. If Brian had looked up to meet his eyes, he probably would have seen a numbness there, a complete stranger staring out of unnaturally-blue eyes. "I'm sorry," Justin said. He knew what a blow this must be, because he was well aware of how long they'd been together and all that they'd shared. "I guess I'll see you around…"

Brian ignored him, and Justin left. And that was it.

They parted without any more words, since there weren't sufficient ones anyways. In about ten short minutes, Justin had taken all his stuff and left. And in about ten minutes more, Brian was well on his way to drinking himself unconscious. A perfectly appropriate thing to do, he reasoned as he lay half-naked and drinking from a bottle of liquor. Perfectly reasonable, since he'd just regained the most valuable thing in his life, only to lose it again. Later that night he'd pass out properly enough to ensure that he didn't dream of Justin, something which the hedonistic man considered an accomplishment.

But even in his inebriated state, he knew full well that the real struggle would start when he woke up again. He'd be hung-over as hell, as well as faced with a startling new reality: Justin was alive again, and he didn't want to be with him anymore. Brian Kinney was going to have to figure out a way to exist in the world with him, without having him. Somehow, that prospect seemed almost more painful than never seeing him again at all.


	11. Chapter 11

TWENTY, NINETEEN, EIGHTEEN…

_What is this, a missile launch? _

A very tired and very grumpy blonde vampire stared up at the little red numbers as they counted down on the microwave, his face nearly buried against the table where his arms were crossed. Why did _everything_ have to remind him of Brian? Why now? He was pretty sure that, even when he _had _been madly in love with the darker man, he hadn't thought about him this much. A week since his face-to-face rejection, and now even the microwave was making him think of Brian.

…SEVENTEEN

_What is with kids today?_

"Just want to get laid like everybody else," Justin mumbled dejectedly into his sleeve.

"Tell me about it," Evan said from his post by the microwave, interrupting the younger vampire's thoughts. The timer beeped, and he popped open the door. "Here."

Justin glanced up, eyeing the glass of dark liquid as it was handed to him. He took it from Evan as the other man poured his own. Coming over to join him at the table, the wiry man raised his own glass as if in toast to something. "Here's to breakfast. All eight gelatinous ounces of it."

He sipped from his glass, and Justin from his. But only Justin set his back down onto the table. The disparate young blonde watched as his counterpart downed his own meal in less than fifteen seconds. Once he'd finished and looked back up, the dark-haired vampire imparted, "You've got to drink it in one go."

"I'm not sure I could," Justin admitted. He hated drinking blood. Somehow, the artist felt sure that he was the worst vampire ever. Shouldn't there be an instinctual drive for this stuff? How could he hate it so? "It's pretty gross."

Across the table, Evan was trying to be positive. "Eh, there're worse things you could be drinking."

Justin rolled his eyes. Detrimentally, he thought of Brian's juicer. "Yeah, I guess so." Rotating his glass with a thoughtful finger, he wondered aloud, "Is real blood like this?"

"This is real blood."

The more experienced vampire received an impatient scowl, "You know what I mean." Evan had told Justin that he'd drank from people a few times, and the blonde hadn't been able to forget it. "Like, _real_ blood."

"You mean blood from the vein?" Evan grinned. "It's better. Blood coagulates outside the body, so they add chemicals and shit to this stuff, to keep it more or less liquid. But… yeah it's never the same."

"Hm." Justin sipped again at his own helping. He knew he had to drink it, but that didn't change the fact that he'd rather have had a cheeseburger. But it had already been explained to him how bad of an idea that was. Due to their very slow metabolisms, vampires who tried to go around eating cheeseburgers got fat really fast. "Shit," Justin cursed over his next sip. "I wish we could just go out and do that instead."

"—Do what?"

_Eat cheeseburgers. _"Drink blood from people."

Justin had answered aloud before he'd even registered that a new voice had asked him the question—not Evan. Both young men glanced up from the table to see their counselor standing, framed in the kitchen's small doorway. "Hey, shrink man," Evan greeted.

"Evan," Aiden nodded. "Justin."

Justin gave a clipped wave of the hand. "Hi."

"You were talking about something before I came in," the counselor said meaningfully. "Please, don't let me interrupt."

Justin wasn't stupid. He could tell that Aiden very much intended to hear what it was they were discussing. He was kind of a busy-body that way. Sighing, he simply repeated what'd he'd just said, "I was saying I wish we didn't have to drink this from bottles." He lifted his half-full glass to illustrate his point. "I don't see why we can't do it the other way."

"The 'other' way?" Aiden repeated humorlessly. "From people you mean."

Both of the young men averted their gazes. "Why not?" Justin asked first. "Other people do. It's not illegal or anything." He'd become well aware—again, through Evan—that there were plenty of vampires out in the world who didn't get their regular meals mail-ordered.

"Yeah," Evan said in support, a shit-stirring gleam in his eyes, "What's the point in putting up with this," At _this_, he gestured to Justin's still-unfinished breakfast, "when the real thing's so much better? I vote that we change house rules. Let's go organic."

Justin snorted at the terminology, while Aiden frowned even deeper. "You're free to do whatever you want. But if you want to continue living in this residential facility, then you have to follow the rules. No blood from the vein. Period." The oldest vampire's gaze was fixed solely on Evan as he made his assertion, a distinction which did not go unnoticed by the blonde of the trio. Both young men watched as their mentor turned to depart, leaving them in silence once again.

"…Nazi," Evan mumbled darkly.

"He doesn't like you much, huh?"

The darker vampire gave a wicked grin from across the way. "Not since I snuck out my second week here and had a bit of fun."

Justin raised his eyebrows, "A 'bit of fun'?" He couldn't help but listen with eager ears, as Evan spoke,

"It wasn't anything crazy. I just left the house one night. Took this other guy with me. That was mistake number one."

Justin nodded. New residents were heavily discouraged from leaving until they'd been there a little while. "Well what happened?"

Evan shrugged, "I met up with some people I know, got some good drugs, went over to the clubs on Liberty with some groupies, and had a fucking awesome time. Aiden turns the story into some big thing, but it really wasn't."

To the side, Justin vaguely wondered what Evan meant by "groupies." As the wiry man told him just what he'd gotten up to as a brand new vampire all those months ago, the artist couldn't squelch the niggling itch in his head to go out and do the same. Hadn't he been fun, once? Justin could remember back to the time when, not so long ago, he'd been out on the town having fun nearly every night. It was in stark contrast to his life now, the young man thought with a frown. Interrupting his friend's continuing story, Justin suddenly asked, "Hey, have you ever been to _Babylon_?"

That afternoon, Justin was walking along the upstairs hallway when he found himself halted by Aiden's voice.

"Justin, can I speak with you for a moment?"

The blonde paused, peering towards the house office where the call had come from. He'd been headed to his room with the intention of taking another whack at mastering waking state, but at the summons he instead found himself taking a cautious step into the comfortable room. It was where he and every other resident of the home had their therapy sessions. Aiden was sitting at the room's little writing desk, his back to the younger man. Given his position, Justin wondered how Aiden had even noticed that he'd been passing. "What did you want to talk about?" the artist ventured, though he had an uneasy feeling that he might already know.

"You and Evan have become pretty close," Aiden pointed out calmly.

"We're friends," Justin admitted. "Something wrong with that?"

"No. It's good for you to make friends here. But I want to give you a bit of advice with regards to which ones you make." In the desk's chair, Aiden swiveled round, finally fixing his gaze upon his newest patient. "Some friends further you, and some hold you back." The dark-haired man shrugged meaningfully, "I won't tell you who to spend time with, but I would urge you to consider what Evan gets from your company, and then ask yourself what you get from his." Standing, he added, "You're doing so well here, Justin. I'd hate to see you go down the wrong path."

Watching the other man walk closer to him, Justin wasn't sure whether or not he visibly frowned. "The 'wrong path'?" Canting his head, he asked blithely, "Is that what you call anybody's opinion that diverges from yours?"

For his part, Aiden looked offended. "You know I'm not that petty."

They'd spent a great deal of time together, and indeed: Aiden hadn't shown himself to be shallow or mean on any front. The man was intelligent, and always kind in his dealings with the younger man. He was the one who'd guided Justin through those nearly-unnavigable first hours and days of the change. He was the first vampire Justin had ever known; the one who had _made_ him. His biological and social font, for lack of a better term. So it was with a slightly abashed nod that Justin conceded the point. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know you're just looking out for me. But I don't think Evan's way of looking at things is so bad."

"I know you don't," Aiden agreed. "I must seem very boring to you, but try and remember how old I am, and how young he is. I have reasons for being so politically correct. Sometimes it really is just better to fit in. If he tries to talk you into anything… I wouldn't. Drinking from the vein can be addictive, for one. Most decent vampires stay away from it."

The advice, though thoughtfully-given, had the rebellious side of Justin's brain shirking away. _Decent. _A lot of people—mainly his father—had tried to tell him how to be 'decent' when he was younger, and the blonde didn't like being told what to do on that front. "Sure," he said complacently, while thinking that if anything was true, it was that the man before him was most definitely a P.C. vampire. "I understand," Justin promised, but inside he knew that despite how helpful and kind the handsome vampire had been to him, _he _didn't want to end up being just like him. All Evan wanted to do was have a little fun, and after more than three weeks of being cooped up in the residential facility, Justin was finding that he too, wanted to shake things up. Maybe Aiden wouldn't like that, but… maybe Justin didn't care.

"Have you made any progress since we spoke last?" Aiden ventured, "With your emotional memories, that is?"

Faced with a slightly more comfortable train of conversation, Justin shrugged, "I don't know. Sometimes I think I've had a few feelings like… warm fondness or something, for a few people"—Justin ignored Aiden's knowing glance at _a few people_, continuing, "but then I can't even decide whether I was simply imagining it all to begin with." Shaking his head in dismay, Justin conceded, "I really don't know."

"Here." Aiden had come to stand very close to the young blonde. In his proffered hand, were several new letters, "Maybe these will help. They came for you."

Glancing down at the papers, Justin reached to take them from the other man. "They keep writing," he complained quietly. "I almost wish they'd stop."

"DON'T wish that." Blue eyes shot back up as the older man brought a finger to run down the side of his face. Aiden watched as Justin shuddered, and said, "Be glad you still have people to write you. And don't stop working on regaining your memory. The people writing these letters knew you before your accident. That's very important because it could end up being the trigger you need. You never know. Communication with them could help you. Besides: if you let your human family fall away, you'll end up regretting it."

Justin nodded silently, as the other man's hand fell to rest on his shoulder. If he'd been human, the touches would have seemed inappropriate to the young blonde. They would've crossed some line, one which any decent therapist should not cross. But he wasn't human anymore, and Justin understood that—while it could still be extremely personal and sexual—touch was something that vampires extended to one another much as any human would a simple nod. It was affirmation, comfort. Not psychic really, but sometimes it felt close to it.

_Every culture has a collective consciousness_, Aiden had told him once, _ours is just stronger_. Justin thought that, while that collective consciousness may have felt nice, it wasn't all good. What with all their touching like they did, humans had kind of formed the perception that, in addition to being violent, unpredictable, and shallow; vampires were promiscuous too. Justin supposed that _that _was another perception that his mentor would wish him to toe the line in regards to.

"Do you mind if I go?" Justin asked. "I was headed to my room."

"Of course." Aiden stepped back to watch as the artist moved for the hall. "But I'll ask you to think about one thing while you're gone, Justin."

"What's that?"

"He still lives here. Six months, and he hasn't made any move to go back to the real world."

It was obvious that he was talking about Evan, and Justin asked, "Why not?"

"I can't violate counselor-patient confidentiality." And even though he couldn't say anything, his eyes communicated plenty. They said: _think about it_.

"I'll keep that in mind," Justin muttered. He wandered out of the office and away from the observant gaze of his mentor, now with a packet of letters clutched in his hand, and a whole lot more on his mind.

In the privacy of his small room, Justin had seated himself to face the desk. The stack of letters was afforded a moment's consideration, before being hastily stowed in one of the desk drawers. Whoever they were from, he didn't want to read them. His visit with Brian the week before had only proved to the young blonde how far away from meaningful reconciliation he was with the people who loved him.

Despite the older man's shielded demeanor, Justin had very much been able to tell that he'd crushed Brian with his decision not to stay. Hell, Justin thought, he'd crushed himself. Who _wouldn't_ have wanted to stay there? Brian was the sexiest, most successful, confident, intelligent, promiscuous, and certainly most outrageous gay man in Pittsburgh. He was perfect. And unlike anyone else who may have desired Brian, _Justin _had all the memories to back up that attractive ideal of the other man as fact. Justin _wanted _Brian to be his boyfriend. He was just too disabled now to have him.

In just the same way, the young blonde wanted his mother back. And Debbie, and Lindsay and Melanie. They were, as Aiden had said, his family. But Justin knew he'd crush them all equally if not worse than he had Brian, if he tried to explain it to them now. Maybe if he was stronger, Justin thought. It wasn't as if people didn't choose to exist dysfunctionally in relationships all the time. Maybe if he wasn't so selfish and could just lie to everyone, ignore his own discomfort for _their _happiness…

Shaking off what was clearly the beginning thread to a tapestry of mournful thoughts, Justin instead reached to tear a sheet of blank paper from a recently-purchased notepad. Not exactly quality drawing paper, but good enough for a fast doodle. Thoughts racing over the happenings of the past few hours, the artist let his hand skim over the page. And the first scratch of pen on paper was like a good swift inhale of cocaine—or at least, what he imagined cocaine to be like.

A rush of pleasure and clarity came on strong, making Justin realize how long it had been since he'd done anything related to art, and how much he missed it. Drawing, even stupid messy sketches on cheap drugstore notepads, was the ultimate stress relief for the young man. Mysteriously, the pen began outlining a face. That was the only clue Justin had that he was going to be drawing a person.

What was he going to do about Evan and Aiden? The confused young man wondered as he sketched. Justin had come to know that there were two types of vampires and two types of vampire cultures. On the one hand, you had men like Aiden; people who based their actions around what other people—namely humans—_might_ think about them. They drank blood from bottles, held respectable positions within the community, wore all their clothes in matching colors… etc., etc.

Then there were other vampires, vampires like Evan. People who drank from the vein, who went out on the town at night, despite how it might seem to some humans. People who did what they felt like doing, and said "fuck 'em all" to anybody who had a problem with it.

Sitting there at his little desk, Justin grinned. _'Fuck em all' indeed. _He began to draw in the features to the face—Emmett's face. With the unabashedly fabulous man's trademark saying in mind, Justin considered how it was basically the same paradigm with gay men. You were either simply homosexual—gay; or you were a fag—queer, fabulous. It was the difference between being a Ted or being an Emmett. The only question was: which did Justin want to be? A Ted or an Emmett?

He wanted badly to please Aiden, to have his approval. To not have his approval might mean to lose his help and support, both of which the artist didn't know what he'd do without. Going into Aiden's office every morning was a huge part of what gave the younger vampire the courage to face another day in this new existence of his. Justin NEEDED that connection, that counsel with him. It was, as he'd previously described, his lifeline.

But conversely, he simply liked Evan better than Aiden. He had more fun with him, anticipated his presence more. Evan was his _friend_, his only friend. And despite Aiden's disapproval of the young agitator, Justin wanted to be around him. Because without Evan, his life was boring, and right now Justin had too many insecurities in his life to be boring as well. If he had to be going through this: the coma, being turned into a vampire, suffering through blood drinking and sensory overloads and memory loss; then he could God-damned well at least make sure he wasn't bored.

His formerly-gimp right hand had sketched the outline of his old acquaintance's eyes, nose and lips, the visage of the kind and amusing man staring out at him from the page. Something vaguely resembling a fond emotion filled the blonde's heart. And as vague as it was, that one faint feeling decided it for him. Right then and there, Justin knew that he would leave the Teds to people like Aiden. And fuck 'em all, because he was going to be an Emmett.

The drawing of said man was finished, it just needed a signature. Knowing that even a measly sketch deserved that much, Justin reached into the topmost drawer on the desk. But before his hand could find a pencil, it met something else. Two items were withdrawn from the desk, and Justin laid them out to regard with curious eyes. One was a bracelet made from shells strung together, and the other was an old set of house keys.

Both items had been in the duffle bag that someone had left for him at the hospital. Slipping the nautical adornment over the bones of his hand, Justin wondered how Deb or his mom had gotten Brian to give up his prized cowry shell bracelet. It looked foreign on his body, clearly meant for another man's wrist. And the keys sat there as well, looking as if they wanted to prompt him into action. Justin picked them up, thumbing over the worn teeth of the small key which he knew opened the studio. Slowly, an idea began to form in the young man's head.

Stalking downstairs to find his new, slightly less than P.C. friend sitting on the living room's couch, Justin blurted out, "Hey, you want to go check out my old apartment?"

Evan only grinned.

Standing in the one main room of his old living space, Justin found himself wondering how he'd stayed away for so long. "I love this place," he informed the darker man behind him. "I can't believe I forgot how much."

For his part, Evan looked around like he thought the apartment was pretty interesting. "You remember that you loved it?" he asked pointedly.

"Well… no. I think I just like it equally as much now." Justin frowned. _Did _he have some lasting sentiment for this place? There was no way to tell. Maybe. "Besides," he offered, moving farther into the room, "I was at Brian's loft last week. If locations were going to start triggering my memory, I'd bet money that his loft would work better than this dump."

"It's not a dump," Evan placated, "It's… artistic."

The two vampires met each other's gazes, and Justin snorted. "Um, thanks," he laughed. "If I'd known I was going to be in a coma, I would've tidied up a bit more." Eyes running over his artwork that littered the entire apartment, the blonde thought aloud, "I really need to start painting again. I was sketching up in my room at the home today, and it was like… a gulp of air. I need to be creating things again."

Sauntering over to the living room couch, Evan prompted, "So do it. That was your job before, right?"

"Yeah," Justin sighed. "I wonder how many of my commissions are still available." There was no doubt that some or most of his clients had given up on him, whether they'd heard about the accident or not. The young man winced, hating to think of how badly this whole "dying" thing may have damaged his reputation as a dependable artist. For the first time, Justin thought of Councilman Van Dorn. For the first time he thought of Skylar. "I should call my accounts tomorrow and see if they still want my business," he said decisively.

"Do you have a phone?"

"Um," well _no_, he didn't. "I'll go buy a new phone, _then_ I'll call the accounts."

Evan raised his eyebrows, kicking a leg up onto the couch, "Well given that your old one's most likely at the bottom of a river right now, I hope your carrier saves contact info."

Grimacing, Justin realized that he hoped so too. "Shit," he said, shoving the other man's leg out of the way so that he too could plop himself down onto the couch. He gave a dismayed laugh. "I've been away from the real world for so long, I hadn't even realized how separated I was from it."

"I know how that can be. Sometimes I wonder why the hell I haven't gotten out of the home yet."

Justin bit his lip, remembering how Aiden had cautioned him to think about Evan's continued reliance on the home. "Why haven't you then?" he prompted casually. "Why not move out?"

Evan gave nothing away in his response, only waving a hand noncommittally, "Oh you know: free rent and all that. I don't have a job or anything."

The inkling that'd been forming in Justin's head back at the home was coalescing into a tangible idea. Evan was—as pointed out by their respective busybody counselor—a loner stuck in one place from which he refused to move. But he wanted to leave, and so did Justin. And, the blonde reasoned, another vampire would never question his weird eating or sleeping habits… "You know," Justin ventured, "the rent on this place is pretty low. It would be virtually nothing with a roommate."

The darker vampire's eyes slid slowly over, "What?" he asked, grinning, "You're going to move back here?"

Justin nodded "Why the hell not? It's got all my art, my furniture. I miss having my own space. _Really_ having my own space, not just some room that the state's letting me live in. Don't you?"

For a second, and for the first time Justin had ever observed, Evan looked a little scared. "I guess," he hedged. "But why does it matter?"

Justin shrugged, "You could move with me. There's room for another bed."

Beside him on the couch, Evan guffawed, "There's no other bedroom!"

"We can buy some adjustable walls," Justin offered. He'd heard about them months ago, when he'd been considering a move to New York, sans Brian. The move hadn't happened due to the Brian part, but he _had _learned how invaluable the cheap, install-it-yourself partitions were to the multitudes of poor roomies cohabitating in the Big Apple. "Over there," he pointed thoughtfully. "We can block off a section to be my room."

"Hey!" Evan argued, "How come you get the private room?" He glanced dubiously over to the current sleeping area—it was smooshed in right by the kitchenette.

"Sexiest vampire gets the bedroom," Justin refuted imperiously. Sobering, he asked, "So what do you think? Want to move in?" Somehow, the thought of reemerging back into the human world didn't seem as daunting, if he knew Evan would be doing it with him. Seeing the other man's veiled hesitation, Justin coaxed, "Come on: it'll be fun."

"…Okay."

"Great!"

"But I still need to find a job," the other man worried. "I don't know who the fuck is going to hire me though."

Justin paused, considering. Hmm… that was a good question actually. Who in their right mind would hire a lanky, sarcastic, trouble-making vampire who didn't really respect authority, twitched when he was nervous, and had a dark sense of humor? Slowly, the concentrated frown that had creased the blonde's brow melted into a clever smile. "Hey," he asked brightly, "have you ever waited tables before?"


	12. Chapter 12

A week since the incident at his loft, and Brian had all but forgotten about it. Or at least, that's what he told himself.

In a way, it was true. A week certainly had Brian going through the motions of life by himself again. A week had him back to kicking ass at work. A week had him tricking again. Hell, a week had him in such good shape, he'd dropped an entire percentage point in body fat. By all accounts, it was an amazing week for the thirty three years young man. But it was a week without Justin, and that kind of sucked most of the fun out of it. But no one had ever claimed that Brian Kinney couldn't make the best out of any situation, and so with his own attuned skills of self-preservation in highest gear, the advertising executive was able to move onwards and upwards to bigger and better things.

At least, that's what he told himself he was doing. It was certainly what he felt he was doing, as he sat on his own, newly-appointed sound stage that Friday afternoon.

"Oh DARLING! That's GORGEOUS, that's INSPIRED, that's… _Jesus, _that's horribly crude! Oh no no no, stop for a moment, CUT!"

A thin, balding man had rushed forward into the shot of the commercial that he was directing. "Can we not _please_ try and remember what we talked about? It's innuendo Shannon!" he stressed to the actress, "Let's leave something to the imagination, shall we?"

Off set, Brian, Ted and Cynthia looked on with fascination. "Innuendo?" Ted wondered aloud, "She's licking yogurt off his stomach; what more is there to imagine?"

"It's banana," Cynthia supplied dumbly, eyes glued to the couple on-set.

"Told you," Brian piped, "It'll make the breeders cream their jeans. Case in _point_," he muttered, pointing surreptitiously to his aroused assistant. A shudder following his words, Brian shifted his attention to one of the sound tech guys, who was busy operating a boom mike just to their left. "Now _there's_ somebody I wouldn't mind sharing a dairy-based snack with," he said haughtily, not blushing in the slightest when the other man turned their way, ostensibly having heard exactly what the sharply-dressed executive had said. Brian winked.

"Brian!" Ted hissed, drawing his friend and boss's attention back to the matter at hand. "Jesus, at least wait until they've finished filming for the day. You can't fuck him yet if you want your commercial to have any audio to go with the visual."

To the beleaguered accountant's side, Cynthia was smirking, "Seems we've both found something we like."

"Indeed," Brian drawled. "A real accomplishment, given this achingly hetero-normative porno we're filming."

"Relax Bri. This 'hetero-normative porn' is going to make you a lot of money," Ted reassured.

Cynthia nodded. Back to fascinated consideration of the attractive couple on set, she commented distractedly, "And sell a lot of yogurt…"

Ted managed to roll his eyes again at the whip-smart assistant's sudden drop in IQ at the presence of a man, a woman, and some _Dannon_. But when he turned to complain to Brian, he found that his boss had already stood and walked away. Over by the boom mike, the polished brunette had leant against a concrete pillar as he watched the sound technician adjust an angle or two. "That looks complicated," Brian lied. It looked fucking easy as hell. But the buff man in an achingly tight black tee shirt spared him a sideways grin for it,

"It's tricky, but once you get the right angle…" the technician paused for effect, eyes tinting a darker shade than they were before, "It's all smooth sailing from there."

Brian smirked, lips parting at the thought of just how accurately he was going to recreate this commercial with _boom mike guy_, once the set was abandoned. _Maybe with an added flourish or two at the end of the scene_. "Oh, believe me," he drawled, "I'm all about getting the right angle." Sauntering closer, he asked pointedly, "Tell me: what's the most creative way you've ever eaten yogurt?"

That evening, a careful knock came from the door, ruining the perfect quiet that had, until then, permeated throughout the bedroom. From where he was laying, Brian groaned as he could see his lone female friend insinuating herself into the room. He immediately closed his eyes, features a mockery of tranquility. "Who said you could come in?" he complained from the bed.

"Well," Lindsay hedged patiently, "It _is _my room." Crossing the floor, she climbed up to join him. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"No". _God, please let her leave it at that_, Brian hoped. But he knew his friend too well to think she wouldn't grab her chance for a chat, now that they were alone. They'd all come over for dinner at the Munchers' that night, even him. And now Lindsay had hunted him down. Sniffed him out like the injured, vulnerable animal that he was. She'd attack, no doubt about it. Maybe he shouldn't have snuck upstairs after all. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about anything related to _feelings_. "Nothing's wrong. I'm relaxing," Brian insisted

"Hm." The perceptive blonde knew him too well to let the excuse fly. Brian still had his eyes closed, and she traced a delicate finger across his features, saying, "Let's see… you can't stop thinking about Justin. You've been mindlessly fucking your brains out all week, despite how WRONG that is, present circumstances considered. You _still _can't stop thinking about Justin… Oh, and you're drunk."

One hazel eye squinted reluctantly open. "…High, but good guess."

Lindsay grabbed her pillow, delivering a swift hit to the obnoxious man's head. "Is that all you're going to say?! And what about the rest of it, huh? Did I pretty much hit the nail on the head?"

Brian scowled, "And what if you did? What does it matter? I can fuck whoever the hell I want." _He was Brian Kinney, for fuck's sake. And what was it with women anyways? You get naked with a girl a few times in college, she never leaves you alone again._

Lindsay's tone was heavy with disapproving sarcasm, "Of course you can. It's not as if Justin was anyone _special_."

"—will you leave him out of it?!" Brian sat up, angry, "We're not together anymore. The sooner everyone gets that through their head, the sooner I can—"

"—the sooner you can what, Brian?" Lindsay had interrupted. "The sooner you can sleep with the other half of Liberty Avenue?"

"And what if I do, huh?" Glaring at his friend for her attempt at advice-giving, Brian spat, "The first half was certainly good enough to recommend the second. I slept with a ton of men this week, and it was fucking fantastic. I think I'll do it again next week!" Getting up, he stalked around the bed for the door. "That is," he finished sweetly, "_if _you don't mind, mother."

He walked out of the room, and Lindsay was left sitting alone on the bed to consider his outburst. Crossing her arms, the blonde woman couldn't help but to shake her head ruefully. Her feeling weren't hurt because she knew that her dear Peter had never been good at hearing the unfortunate news that he had to –or at least probably should—grow up. Brian may not have been ready to admit it, but she and all the others could already see how badly this newest break up was affecting him. Problem was: only Brian saw it as a breakup. Everyone else was kind of waiting for the self-centered man to wake up and realize that, if ever there was a time to ignore what Justin wanted, and go after him, _this _was that time.

Whoever would have thought that she, along with all the others, would have ended up rooting for the unlikely love story of the corrupted youth and his corruptor? It was strange how things sometimes turned out. Standing, Lindsay figured that she had better head downstairs and join the others. Especially if her already-high, belligerent friend had decided to do the same.

"And _then_ the props guy walks in, gets one look at the two of them, and starts yelling at them for staining the settée!" Ted cried, finishing his story of Brian's afternoon tryst-gone-awry. "No comment on them being naked, just the furniture!"

"Serves you right Brian," Lindsay said from her corner of the living room. Brian's back stiffened at hearing her two cents, and she knew why. Of course she'd already told her male counterpart off for his conquests once that evening, earning a response that was highly defensive even for him. Nobody liked that Brian fucked around like Justin had never existed, but only _she_ had the guts to say it to his face.

Lindsay averted her eyes to the floor, allowing a smile to creep back in. Everyone that was gathered in the Marcus-Peterson living room was still either grinning or laughing along at Ted's amusing story. Everyone except Brian, that was. The impuned man sat sulkily on the piano bench, fingers twanging out a series of discordant notes. "You know," he spat, spinning round to face the rest of the room, "I don't see why it's so funny. Or why it's any one of yours' business." At Lindsay's knowing eyebrow raise, he added, "Can't a man fuck in peace anymore?

"Not if it's on a seventy thousand dollar movie set!" Melanie laughed.

Brian sent her a withering glare. He still hadn't forgiven the lawyer for her meddlesome role in Justin's demise, such that it was. Keeping with the topic at hand however, he argued, "The stains were _yogurt_, people. Yogurt: got it?"

A pause, than a burst of snorts and laughter. "Okay Brian," Michael assuaged, "we believe you."

The cheeky grin that remained on his best friend's face belied the truth, and Brian tossed a crumpled paper from the piano at him for it. "Fucker," he said fondly, "You can drive _yourself_ to Babylon tonight."

"Hey… That was my sheet music," Mel was gazing mournfully at the crumpled ball of paper-turned weapon.

_Good_ _riddance_, was what Brian thought meanly. But he kept his mouth shut, instead asking Emmett if he'd brought anything better than poppers for the night. "What?" the hedonistic man offered in explanation, "I've run through my stash."

Emmett produced a little bag from his coat pocket, bemoaning, "Dear Lord, the day I start providing you with E."

"What a pal," the darker man simpered.

"Daddy, what's that?" All eyes turned to fix on the three foot tall human that had entered the room. Gus was grinning his usual dopey smile, and pointing straight to the baggie in Emmett's hand. "What's that?"

While it seemed that everyone else in the room would groan in dismay, Brian reached over and scooped his son gleefully into his lap. "That, Sonnyboy," he chirped, "Is EX-Stacy."

Emmett made a stifled sound and blushed to the roots of his hair, stuffing the drugs back into his pocket. "Sorry," he mouthed to the Lesbian couple. Lindsay nodded and Mel glared—at Brian.

"Stacy?" Gus was giggling, squirming in the older man's lap as he was tickled.

"Candy for daddy and his friends," Brian told the child in a sing-song voice, fingers stroking absently through Gus's brown tresses. "Hey tell you what kiddo: why don't you go give mommy Lindsay a hug, and tell her to stop interfering in daddy's sex life? Then you can have some candy too."

"Brian!" Lindsay exclaimed, forced to open her arms as Gus ran over to hug her at said man's request.

The self-serving man could only shrug, amused, as everyone present watched the four year old parrot back to his mother what Brian had said. Emmett's jaw was still hanging open when the boy returned to his father, hand held open. "Stacy candy," Brian supplied, placing a mint from his pocket into the kid's waiting palm. He pulled Gus back up onto his lap and warned conspiratorially, "Now, here's the thing with X: if you soon feel the urge to love and kiss on everyone in the room, you must hold out for the sexiest guy…"

"BRIAN!"

Brian blinked up innocently at the room of his outraged friends, "What?" he asked, shit-stirring grin forming, "Or _girl_." He patted Gus' head, "Whatever floats your boat, kiddo."

"Oookay," Michael stood abruptly, interrupting whatever foul thing was surely about to erupt from Melanie's throat. "I think it's probably Gus's bedtime, don't you Brian?"

"How the hell should I know when they lock him up?"

Eyes wide, the more socially-responsible of the two made some hurried compliment on the lovely dinner Lindsay had served, and with the help of Emmett and Ted, herded their provocative friend out the front door.

"Time to go to Babylon," Brian crowed, once he'd been safely seated in the front passenger side of his very own Jeep.

Whatever the reason was why Michael felt the need to drive him, instead of the other way around, Brian didn't much care. All he knew as they sped off, one of Emmett's pills snatched away to be swallowed effortlessly, was that it was about damned time that he let loose and have a wild night of fun. What with having thrown himself into work so much the past week, it was way past due. _Time to party_, Brian thought as he pilfered a few joints out of the glove box for later use. Time to have a round of colorful drinks with ridiculously exotic names, time to watch all the pretty go-go boys wind their bodies around the club, time to dance and sweat and fuck the night away.

But most of all, time to stop thinking about _him_.

Justin stood quietly behind his worktable, fingers deftly applying a second layer of color to the shaded corner of his latest painting—the first to be taken back up since the accident.

It was a piece of his own choosing; not a commission but rather something that he'd try to sell at a show someday. The colors and textures of his labor arced across the canvas in bright, smoking lines of blue and purple, illuminating the blackened background. It was a club he painted, maybe _Babylon_, maybe some other place. But whatever the inspiration, it was _electric_.

Justin glanced over the progress that he'd made on it that day, his newly-adjusted eyes taking-in all of the vibrant colors and textures. Just weeks ago, looking at this very painting would have hurt him, his still-adapting brain too confused to process the depth of information. Thankfully all that had faded, the artist thought. Just like Aiden had said it would. Justin's lips quirked ruefully. He hadn't believed the older vampire when he'd said that all this would get easier, that Justin would actually come to _appreciate_ the depth with which he could now see colors, textures; the way he could hear sounds.

It wasn't necessarily that he could feel any of those things _better _than any human, the young man mused, but rather that he could sense them more poignantly. It was like looking at an old photo and recognizing all of the little details that you'd been either too stupid or too distracted to notice before. Standing there looking over his artwork, Justin found that he downright _marveled_ at his new senses when they were applied to such personally-gratifying subject matter. And it wasn't as if the physical challenges of producing fine art hadn't eased as well.

The young artist was amazed at how easily the motions had come back to him, how effortlessly the muscles and tendons in his hand now flexed and moved. Here he'd stood for the better part of four hours, and not a tremor had crept upon him. Calling out to his newly-appointed roommate, the blonde remarked, "A month ago this would've killed me!"

"And now you're dead, so maybe it did," Evan deadpanned from his lounging position against the bed. His eyes had not diverted from the magazine that he was reading.

"_Lame_," Justin whispered in mocking of his friend's attempt at humor.

"_No_, what's lame is that it's a Friday night and we're sitting around here like good little boys who have nothing better to do than…"

"Than to read GQ?" Justin asked pointedly, eyebrow raised.

The magazine got plopped down onto the bed, "Than to paint. Work. Haven't we done enough of that?"

Justin snorted. "_We_?" He was the one who'd been making a living for most of the day, something which he was very grateful to still be able to do. Councilman Van Dorn, among others, hadn't seemed to have a problem when he'd called earlier that day to inform them of his… _hiatus_. Only a few commissions had been rescinded.

From the bed, Evan was arguing the point of exactly what constituted "work." "I didn't sit around on my ass," he was defending. "I got a job, didn't I?"

Justin brought his brushes over to the utility sink to clean, not quite able to suppress a grin at the memory of his friend's earlier interview. Evan had managed to convince one of the world's most affable, generous, not to mention biggest queer-loving waitresses, to hire him on. _Bully for him_. "Yeah, I guess you did."

"Never did a phone interview before," the darker vampire reflected. "I'm not sure if I liked it."

"Does it matter? What were you going to do, walk over to the diner at noon?" Justin shook his head, "Deb liked you. I could tell." The other man had conducted his phone interview on speaker while Justin had been painting. It hadn't been hard to miss every loud word the overbearing woman had uttered.

Evan shrugged hopefully, saying, "Maybe. Hey Justin?"

"Hm?"

"Why don't you want me to mention you to her?"

The blonde frowned, focusing even harder at removing all traces of clumped acrylic from his brushes. "She doesn't need to know who referred you for the job."

Evan chuckled, "It would certainly help to have you for a reference. The way you talk about her, I'm sure she'd trip over her own feet to employ someone even remotely connected to you." Evan watched carefully at the effect his talk had on the other man. It was becoming clear to him, how much of an effort Justin seemed prepared to make to stay removed from his human family. The wiry man felt a dose of envy sweep through him at the precious resource that his friend refused to appreciate. "Don't you think she'll put two and two together?" he asked, "Being that I'm a vampire, and _you're _a vampire?"

"There are plenty of vampires in the world," Justin evaded. "They can't assume I know all of them. It's not like we have secret meetings."

Evan grinned and menacingly steepled his fingers, saying villainously "Or… _do we_? Why Justin, no one told you about the secret vampire meetings?" A laugh bubbled from his throat, drawing Justin into the laugh with him. Shaking off the stupidity, he again put forth, "Seriously though, what are we doing just sitting around here? It's half past ten. Let's go out!"

Done cleaning up, Justin walked over to stand by his new roommate. "What did you have in mind?" he asked.

"Well… you mentioned a place called _Babylon_. How about—"

"—No," Justin immediately shut him down. "Everyone I know goes there."

Evan frowned. "So let me get this straight: we're not going to go to what you personally described as 'fag heaven,' because Brian might be there?" He scoffed, "You're giving him a lot of credit."

"I didn't say 'Brian'," Justin insisted. "They all hang out there. It would be a huge buzz kill to see their faces looking at me like I was the… freaking resurrection of Jesus Christ or something."

Grabbing his magazine back up off the duvet, Evan shook the cover in his friend's face, "Do you see this man?" he exclaimed, referencing the cover model. "Do you?!" At Justin's confused nod, he went on, "And _who_ is this god-damned gorgeous man, Justin?"

"…Channing Tatum," the blonde begrudgingly supplied.

"Yes!" Evan chucked the magazine right back onto the bed, the cover crumpling halfway through said man's face. "Now don't you want to go out and meet gorgeous guys just like him? Don't you want to fuck them? Bite them?"

Lips twisted in a wry smirk, Justin pointed out, "I don't think Channing Tatum fucks guys. I don't think he'll be at Babylon either."

"You're missing the point!" Evan crowed. "We need to go out. _I _need to go out. When's the last time we've had fun?"

"Um…"

"Never!" Evan supplied to his hesitant friend. "I thought the whole point of us leaving the home was to _live_ again."

Justin narrowed his eyes. "It was."

"Well then?" the wiry man provoked, "What are you waiting for?"

Justin thought about it for maybe an entire twenty seconds. After that, he knew his friend was right. Fuck Brian. Fuck if any of them would be there. He wasn't going there to see them and neither was Evan. They _should _go have some fun, the blonde thought. And _Babylon _was the best place to do it. There'd been enough drama in past weeks. It was high time to just let it all go and dance, fuck, eat; whatever they felt like. Glancing once more to the slightly-crumpled magazine face of that tragically-straight actor, Justin decided then and there: they'd go out.

"Twenty minutes to get showered and dressed," he offered, voice laced with excitement. "And call those guys you know."

Evan grinned and nodded. "Okay." He picked up the phone as his younger counterpart ran off to the bathroom. "The more the merrier," he murmured.


	13. Chapter 13

Outside of Babylon, between the brick façade of that building and the next, drug deals were going on left and right. A bald man with his lover in tow bought weed, a gaggle of twittering highschoolers overpaid for poppers, a lone queen took an ounce of cocaine. This was _The Pharmacy_, the alley down which nearly every gay man in Pittsburg went at one time or another, for one thing or another. It was the alley down which three vampires and two humans went, but they didn't stop for the usual dealers. They went straight back to a dark-skinned gentleman standing farther off from the rest.

"Hector," Evan greeted first, addressing the man by the brick wall. "We need some favors."

The man—_Hector_—looked their group of five over. "V for five?" he asked, voice circumspect. He bore a strong east African accent.

"For three," Evan corrected. He glanced back at the pair of humans who lingered nearest to Justin. "And E for two."

The dark man-nodded, named a price, and accepted the money that Evan was soon handing over. "Here," he offered, giving the wiry man two separate baggies of pills. "Be careful with 'em," he warned. Evan nodded in understanding, but the dealer continued his tough look back to Justin and the third vampire in their group—a man who'd been introduced simply as _Gavin_. "You two know about V?" he asked sharply. Justin shook his head, while Gavin nodded in the affirmative. Latching on to the blonde's answer, Hector impressed, "It'll get you high. Vamps' bodies push all the regular shit out too fast for any of the effects. V will do the trick cause it's so strong, but it's JUST for you, got it? No humans take the V."

"Why not?" Justin queried.

Hector only raised a disapproving eyebrow. "Ask your friend," he said, indicating Evan with a twitch of the head. "He should know. Now get lost."

It was their cue to leave, and Gavin led the way as the others followed him back out of the alley. The pulse of Babylon could be felt from the sidewalk out in front of the building. All five men made their way closer to where the music and lights just managed to spill out of the front door, the place's heartbeat drawing them in as if they would gain sustenance from it. As they waited in line, Gavin seemed to take charge of handing out everyone's favors for the night.

Justin accepted his little red pill, different in appearance from the little white pills Jay and Nathan swallowed. _V for vampires, E for everyone else, _he mused. Glancing over at Evan, he asked lowly, "What happens if they take the red pills?" he nodded at Jay and Nathan, who were being eyed up by the club's security.

The darker vampire averted his gaze to the sidewalk at the question, looking perturbed. "Jesus, what do you think? They die." He moved forward in line as if the question had annoyed him, or freaked him the hell out. Justin could only blink, taken-aback. _Oh._

_You only do drugs with your friends because they're the only ones that give a fuck about you_.

It was what Brian would have said, if he could have seen the young blonde tipping the foreign red pill back into his mouth. The bouncer let them into the club, and it was only moments after the drug had slipped down his throat, that Justin could feel the beginning effects. Snagging Evan to the side for another private word, Justin pointed out, "You didn't say your friend was bringing humans with him." Glancing backwards, he could see the other three men interacting.

Gavin was just another guy; another young, gay man who'd been changed like them. There was nothing any skeevier about him than Evan. The two humans—Jay and Nathan, however, were a different story. It wasn't that Justin had a problem with making new human friends (he hadn't become that big of a snob), but these particular humans seemed unduly attracted to the three other men, almost as if they were desperate for… something. Justin frowned at the way they draped themselves over Gavin at the club's coat check. "What's their deal?" the blonde asked, slightly uneasy.

"Gavin knows the kind of humans that won't have a problem with us," Evan replied cryptically. "That's how I first met him. He knows a lot of groupies."

Justin squinted. He'd heard the darker vampire use that term before, and the insinuation of what it meant had him a little unsettled. "They have a… fetish?" Justin asked, "for us?" Justin wasn't sure how he felt about being objectified like that. Did it matter, if he was planning to objectify them right back?

"Not everyone in the world hates us, Justin. Some people think we're damned beautiful. People like Jay and Nate will let you touch them." He fixed a meaningful level of eye contact on the younger vampire, "They'll let you touch them _however_ you want."

Justin's lips parted as he realized what the other man was saying. Evan had introduced Gavin as a friend, but these two attractive human men weren't friends. They were dinner. "You mean…" Justin bit his lip, "They don't mind if we…"

"More than 'don't mind,'" Evan furthered, "they love it." At his friend's surprised look, Evan chuckled darkly, "Oh man, you've got a lot to learn."

Jay caught his eyes from feet away, a hungry, expectant look projecting out of them. The look had Justin's indolent pulse speeding up. A heady mix of excitement and repulsion swept through the blonde at the notion of sinking his teeth into the willing groupies. One the one hand, it sounded so much like taking advantage of someone, but on the other hand, they _were _willing. Something in Justin's mind quickened at the idea of swallowing mouthfuls of blood from their necks, feeling them dig their nails into his skin as he took what he wanted, hearing their panicked breaths, feeling their bodies slacken with want and need and lack of blood to the brain...

Shuddering, the surprised young man jerked away from the bad fantasy. He found that he had to fight to push back one of the strongest violent impulses he'd had yet. The fantasy to chase, to conquer and kill. _Holy shit, _he thought, blinking unnaturally blue eyes out into the thrumming mass of club-goers that could be seen through the chains. He hoped that this was just another effect of the V he'd taken. Morbidly though, he remembered how Aiden had warned him about these particular impulses in a few of their sessions together. Justin hadn't quite believed the counselor's words about "natural aggression" before. Now maybe he did.

Swallowing hard, Justin ventured, "When do we eat?" He was terrified and fascinated to do it, all at the same time. Some dangerous urge was coiling in the pit of his stomach. It was telling him to ignore the alarm he felt and just do what felt good. _Stop caring_, it said, _and just enjoy yourself_. It could have been the V snaking its influence through his system, but it could have been something much closer to home, too.

Evan laughed loudly, clearly feeling the effects of the souped-up drugs himself. "All in good time," he promised close to the other man's ear. He slung an arm around Justin's shoulder and walked him further towards the chain curtain that would lead them into the club. "But we're in Babylon, not some back alley. So first, let's dance."

The music thumped ever louder, the colors and the people beyond that dividing curtain becoming clearer until they passed through it. Gavin walked beside them, and one of the men—Nathan, Justin estimated—took a coaxing hold of the artist's right hand to pull him along, straight into the sound.

"Damn, I left my feather boa at home," Emmett sulked from the second floor gangway. He leant against the railing with Ted, both men pointedly ignoring the two couples that were mating right in front of them.

"Shoot! I forgot mine too," Ted mimicked. "Too bad. It would've fit right in with my lycra tank top."

Emmett—whose shiny shirt _would _have gone perfectly with a feather boa—only looked sideways at his friend, who was clearly wearing cotton. Edging his colored shades down the bridge of his nose, he replied haughtily, "Say what you want. At least _I_ know a thing or two about accessorizing."

The duo above may have lacked any avian adornments, but the employees of Babylon dancing below certainly didn't. They wore them in arcane crowns about their heads, on gauntlets and anklets, decked out like jungle warriors. If the go-go boys were anything to go by, the theme that night was apparently the gay man's perverted version of Amazonia meets Aztec.

"Brian always has the best themes," Emmett admired, gazing down appreciatively at the dancer who was working his stuff on the bar. "I love a man in loincloth."

"Who doesn't?" Both Brian and Ben had broken away from their conquests to counter the same point at the same moment. The two men glanced surprisedly at each other, sharing a mutual stare at the rare intersection of opinion.

Brian grinned. _Loincloths indeed. _"Why Professor, I_ do_ declare!"

"Yeah, 'hubba hubba'," Michael muttered, grabbing his husband's jaw back to what it had previously been doing—eating his face. "Come here, Tarzan."

Brian made a face at the condemning display of monogamous passion, and swept back in against the waiting lips of his trick for the night—some half-Korean stud whose English was shoddy at best. _Whatever_, he thought vacantly as his hands smoothed up the lean man's sides. _Jiyong _understood the words "dick," and "suck," which was good enough. It wasn't as if they'd be exchanging a whole lot of conversation that evening. And Brian was very adept at non-verbal communication.

"Look at them," Emmett sighed. "Sucking face and grabbing cock, and we're not even an hour into our evening."

"Disgusting," Ted agreed.

"How's a boy supposed to have any FUN," Emmett projected loudly, "if his FRIENDS won't DANCE?" Nobody deemed the protestation worthy of a response, Brian and Ben's backs still to the duo, and Emmett sighed. "Of course we could always go down alone," the lighthearted man postulated, ignoring his copulating friends to give the dance floor below another once-over. "Let's find our own hot somethin' somethin'. What do you say Teddy? Hmm…There's that beefy disco queen there, or that brooding lothario over there. Ooh! Or that Nordic god there, or, or how about that cute blonde who looks just like… Justin," his words petered out, shock at the sight below silencing him.

Brian had broken away at the utterance of "Justin," and so had Ben and Michael. _Jiyong _turned around to have a look just as Ted stepped near to stare over the railing with the rest of them, and they all gaped at the sight of their lost sun dancing below, illuminating the dance floor without them.

The music of the club switched over into another song, this one faster and strangely more melancholy than the last. Justin felt anything but. For the first time since the accident, he felt alive. He felt at home. He felt… well he felt high. And whether it was just that or a combination of endorphins and his own infant senses, it didn't matter. Because he was back on the floor of Babylon, dancing with a beautiful man and letting the thrum of the pulsing world drown out anything else that might have mattered a few hours ago.

The V had flushed through his veins, infecting him with a high reminiscent of ecstasy, but better. The lights and vibrations of the club bloomed around him like rapidly unfurling flowers. The large, warm body of his dance partner twined around him from behind like a choking vine. Justin's electric-blue eyes were blown out in pleasure and excitement as he gazed at the other dancers. Gavin and Evan were dancing nearby, Jay trapped between their bodies. For now, Justin had Nathan.

The clenching hands of said man dug into his shoulders, spinning him around to face the human. Justin continued the movement of his hips in rhythm with his partner, pleased at how well the handsome man could dance. He smiled up at him, tangling their fingers and stepping faster to the beat. "You know how to move!" he shouted into his dance partners' ear.

Nathan grinned, flashing nearly perfect white teeth, "You say that like _you_ don't!" The other man shouted back in compliment, not afraid to grind suggestively against the smaller man. It certainly hadn't escaped his notice, how much friendlier the blonde became towards him once they taken they're favors. Nathan liked the change.

Justin's fuzzled mind wondered briefly why such a good-looking guy wanted so badly to be with a couple of vampires. He could have had anyone in the club, so why choose somebody who came with a handicap? The self-depreciating idea fled his mind as quickly as it had entered, and Justin reached to tangle his fingers in the other man's hair, bringing their dance down to a closer, more writhing sort of thing. Nathan had blonde hair too, but his was nearly white. The lights—tropical red and green that night—colored the human's skin and hair to match everything else. They continued moving like that on the dance floor as the song played on, caught up in the ecstatic pace of the club and the feel of each other's bodies. Neither of them noticed that they were being watched.

The song switched again, and Brian blinked out of his fascinated trance as the next track filled everyone's eardrums. Looking to his left and his right, the shielded man could see that all of his friends were still staring down raptly at the boy whom they'd all thought they'd lost, who was _right there_. "I don't believe it," Ben was saying. "I thought that he was recovering…"

"Looks pretty recovered to me," Michael quipped, astounded.

"Who's the yummy blonde?" Emmett wondered as an aside, adding hastily, "I mean the _other_ one."

Justin was dancing with some pale blonde guy, and Brian narrowed his eyes at the thought that his lover of four years could find a stranger's company acceptable, while _his _was not. It only added fuel to the fire, that the younger man looked so damned good that night. His compact body was on full display in one of those tight, cheeky double-entendre tank tops that Emmett was always providing him with. And his hair had grown substantially since the last time Brian had been with him. It was as long as the older man had ever seen it. And… _Oh. _There, on the slowly-writhing young man's wrist, was the cowry shell bracelet.

He'd forgotten about that. Swallowing, Brian realized that he'd never expected to see it again, let alone see it adorning the body of his lover. He'd left it in that hospital room, heart breaking, in the expectation that Justin would die that day. Brian felt something ache a little at the thought. Turning for the staircase, he went to go down a level. The older man was buzzed beyond a higher plane, but that didn't seem to factor into his decision to go down there. _Justin was dancing down there, and so too should he be_, his thinking went. He'd figure out the rest once he was with him.

But halfway down, he was intercepted by a concerned-looking Michael. "Get out of the way Mikey," he warned.

"Do you really think it's a good idea?" Michael asked. He glanced back at the others still standing on the gangway, before retuning his worried eyes to his friend. "After he walked out like he did?"

"I can still talk to him." Brian shoved past, determined.

"But he doesn't…" Michael watched him walk away, finishing uselessly, "he doesn't remember you." Ben came up to stand behind him, running a reassuring had over the angle of one shoulder. "I should go down there," Michael fretted.

"Do you remember the time when you found out Justin was sleeping with that guy?"

Michael scowled, "Ethan."

"Yeah." Ben rubbed at his partner's shoulder, "Remember how you asked me if you should say anything, and how I told you to stay out of it? To leave it to them?"

At that, Michael _really _scowled. Of course both men knew that he _hadn't_ stayed out of it. God-damned professors. Always having to be so god-damned wise. "So?" he grumped.

"I know you love him to death Michael, but you have to let him figure this one out on his own." Ben kissed his meddlesome lover on the cheek, adding with finality, "Whether it hurts him or not."

They both looked on resignedly as Brian wove his way across the dance floor, towards _him_.

Every high has its peak, and Justin had reached his. The barest sheen of sweat gathered at the edges of his hairline, in the hollows of his throat, along the swell of his shoulders; making him gleam the slightest bit in the club lights. Glitter that had rained down from the rafters stuck to it, turning both him and his human trick into glittering creatures. That was just fine with Justin, because right now he _wanted _to be a creature. A creature of Babylon—what he'd been before and was now finally returning to.

With every switch of song and tempo, he danced on with Nathan, sharing wide smiles that abandoned caution. He no longer cared if he grinned and flashed fang. The man dancing in front of him, hands all over his body, certainly didn't care. Rolling beyond belief, Justin felt ecstatically sure that everyone in the club was connected, united. His thoughts raced wildly. Everyone was so good, so beautiful! He was beautiful, Evan and Gavin were beautiful. Nathan was beautiful. They were all such beautiful creatures.

Justin started staring at the throbbing spot on the taller blonde's neck, the one that pulsed rapidly every time Nathan threw his head about. And he found that once he started staring, he couldn't look away. It was like a trapped, scared animal under the skin there, and Justin thrilled as he realized that he could get at it. He could dig it out and roll it around in his mouth like candy, if he wanted.

He wanted.

Cradling the back of Nathan's head, he pulled their mouths together so that he could feel the warmth of another's lips against his own, and so that he could kiss him right back, tongue swiping in to take. He kissed him hard as they swayed, invading the human man in a safer way than what he really wanted to do—for now.

The groupie had just moaned against his lips, when Justin felt a pair of hands settle at his waist. But they weren't Nathan's hands, because Nathan stood in front of him and these hands held him in reverse, grabbing him from behind. At first he thought it was Evan, or Jay or even Gavin, but that illusion was shattered when a quick glance to the side showed all three aforementioned men still grouped off to another part of the dance floor. A small muscle near the top of Justin's back stiffened slightly as the inkling of who it might be came over him.

He released Nathan and turned slowly. The hands at his waist never left, only rotating along with him. And when he'd come full circle, Justin was faced with the form of exactly who he'd suspected. He should have known from the hands. Justin had always said: Brian Kinney had the best hands.

"Hi Princess." Brian's eyes were wide, apprehensive. It was a distinctive contrast to the lax posture of his body, and did not go undetected. Brian was dancing already, pleased to note that Justin automatically began moving in rhythm with him. The kid always had loved to dance. "Funny to find you here," he shouted conversationally over the music.

Justin shrugged, "Why's that funny? It's a Friday night. I came out to have a good time, like I always do."

_Like __we__ always do, _the hedonistic man corrected in his head. He had to bite back his instinctive response, instead smiling out an uncaring query of, "And? Are you?" He glared over Justin's shoulder to the pale blonde man who still looked as if he was waiting for his dance partner back. "Having fun that is?"

Justin was unable to restrain himself from smiling widely. "YES!" he barked out, making Brian laugh,

"I know that attitude on you too well," he chided familiarly. One of hands relinquished its hold on the younger man's waist to come up and stroke along the pronounced angle of his jaw. New addition of fangs aside, that huge smile was a surefire hint that his golden boy was less than sober. "You're high," he piped.

Justin bounced on the balls of his feet a little—another telltale sign that he'd imbibed—and cackled, "Yes! Ha, like you aren't too. Hey did you meet my friend Evan?"

Brian raised an eyebrow when his excited ex pointed across the dance floor at another young man. The indicated man looked to be about Justin's age. He wasn't traditionally good-looking, Brian thought, but there was a unique quality to his face nonetheless. Something…mysterious, that made you want to keep looking at him. Privately, Brian wondered if Justin would be acting like this— eagerly dancing and talking, introducing him to his new friends—if the young blonde wasn't already high. Privately, Brian didn't really care.

"—except he'd been there six months before me," Justin was rattling away, explaining his friend. "He's really cool."

"Kewl," Brian couldn't help but to mock for old time's sake. Justin, however, seemed to miss the seasoned joke. That bothered Brian more that he would ever admit. "You're making new friends," he ventured instead. "Any interest in your old ones?"

Justin's drugged eyes took a moment to fill with the look of clarity that said he'd gotten the older man's meaning. Once they had, his incredible smile dimmed a few watts. "What?" he followed Brian's gaze to the level above, catching sight of them—_all _of them—standing up there. "Fuck," he uttered. They were staring at him expectantly, just as he'd feared. "Like the freaking resurrection of Jesus Christ," he muttered.

"What?"

Jerking back to the man who'd taken the liberty of holding him so close, Justin shook his head as if to clear his muddled emotions. He'd felt so happy to be in Brian's arms, but now all he felt was apprehensive. The warmth in the other man's eyes, in all of their eyes, was more than the young vampire could kindle in his own. It was too much to live up to, and he just couldn't face it. Justin started trying to maneuver himself away. "I should get back to Nathan."

"Fuck Nathan," Brian blew off the excuse. "I had you first."

"You had me second."

"I had you _first_," the provocative man repeated with meaning, his arms tugging the blonde roughly back against his form. It was that meaning, which brought Justin to a pained pause. Brian looked on as the struggle played out in the younger man's eyes: should he stay, or should he go?

"…I don't remember you," Justin reminded quietly. So quietly that, had he not been holding him so close, Brian never would have heard it.

"Try harder," he cajoled, using his right hand on Justin's skull to close the last gap between them. Their lips connected, and when he was not automatically-rebuffed, Brian kissed Justin as if it would convince the younger man to rethink his position on them getting back together. He kissed him as if it would make him love him again. Unfortunately, even as he reveled in the yielding give of his partner's mouth, Brian knew that simple wishes did not make for simple realities. Parting to lean their foreheads together, he insisted, "Not remembering me and not loving me are two different things. I know you remember this." At 'this', he let his hands run back across the kid's shoulder muscles, smoothing along his sides, inching down to grab his ass.

High, aroused and nervous all at the same time, Justin laughed in surprise, followed rapidly by a barely-there moan at the very personal touch. The laugh made Brian's heart swell with pride that he'd been the cause of it. The moan made his dick twitch. "Tell me again, how you don't remember," the darker man hissed.

"Ugh, Briaaan," Justin groaned in irritation. "I don't remember. I don't." He tipped his head away from the other man's searching kisses as he tried to bring most of the blood flow back to his brain, so that he could sort through his muddled thoughts. Not an easy task, given the heady thrum of pleasure that had settled throughout the rest of his body. And _Christ, _now the older man was back to dancing with him.

Once you swallowed the little pills, everything became exciting and beautiful, but it also became very difficult to reason on any meaningful level. And Justin knew that he should be remembering all of his reasoning about Brian and the others right about now. But Brian was swaying their hips together again in vague imitation of some Latin dance. _He'd such a freaking good dancer, _Justin bemoaned, a flurry of butterflies sweeping through him at the memory of the way Brian had danced with him in the past. A waltz at prom, a salsa at his birthday party. _A birthday party from the man who didn't believe in birthdays._ Justin almost wanted to smile at the thought. But _that _confused the hell out of him as well, because wasn't he numb to Brian-related smiles now? Said man was running fingers through his hair, their breath mingling.

All of these muddled feelings… were any of them real? Did he _miss _Brian, or was it the V? The confusion of that contemplation was more than he could bear at the moment. He'd come to Babylon to get away from all of this confusion, not be sucked farther into it. Brian was kissing his neck as they danced, and Justin felt resolute that he should end it. If his body would let him.

"Don't, Brian. Stop it," he stuttered as the advances continued. He found that he had to pull away entirely, before he could form a useful thought. It had been a forceful pull, but it'd done the job. Brian blinked in surprise at the separation, looking bereft. "I can't," Justin was saying, and this time he adjusted his phrasing to something much more accurate of the fearful thing that he was thinking. Instead of: _I don't remember you_, he said, "I can't be what you remember."

From the new distance of a foot or two away, Brian was looking at Justin as if he'd told him Christmas wasn't coming… or maybe more like he'd said that they would never have a three-way again. Brian shook his head uselessly. "Then just be what you are."

"You shouldn't ask that. You don't know what I am." _I don't even know what I am. _Justin repressed the urge to turn around and glance at Nathan's pulse again.

Brian was floundering, and yet somehow still looking cavalier as he did it. "I miss you Sunshine," he admitted. "That's all."

"I need to get back to Nathan," Justin excused, turning around to walk back to the man who'd been nearly forgotten.

"Fuck Nathan," Brian mumbled. But it was useless because Justin had already walked away, and nobody else was listening. He had to watch, alone, as Justin rejoined with the tall blonde and then the other three people he'd come with. Pretty soon they had Justin laughing again, gracing _them _with that smile that they'd never earned and certainly didn't deserve. Brian scowled, but it was up in the air as to whether the rebuffed man felt more envy, or sorrow at seeing his sunshine slipping away.


	14. Chapter 14

Later that night, history proved to not be lacking in sense of humor. It repeated itself.

Brian went beyond the heavy door, past the thick plastic flaps that hung in concealment of that darker, more heady place in the back of the club. His intention was to find a suitable mouth to fuck—_Jiyong _had made himself scarce since Brian had dumped him for a hot young blonde on the dance floor. Sad really, since the dance had been completely in vain. Obviously, since Brian was currently prowling the narrow, concealed spaced by himself, instead of with a certain young man hanging all over him.

The backroom of Babylon was dark and cerulean, providing smoky cold outlines of its occupants' half-naked forms. Brian owned the club, so he was well aware that the lighting was purposeful. Everyone looked a little more attractive in soft blue light. The skinny twink to Brian's left with his eyes rolled back into his head, for instance, had a more graceful profile in blue; the man further down the hall—the one on his knees who was almost too old to be appropriate—had shed a few years in blue; and that short blonde getting blown against the wall over there…

Brian's thoughts trailed off at the sight of Justin. There wasn't much about this particular blonde that warranted blue light, he thought. He would have looked perfect under freaking fluorescents. As it was, the azure haze cast through the edges of his hair, illuminating the planes of his body to make him look like an otherworldly creature. The glitter from the dance floor still stuck to his skin, merely a memory of that more earthly plane. The paler, taller man—_Nathan_—was kneeling in front of Justin, sucking him off.

Brian blinked in surprise more than shock, staring at the younger man unabashedly. Unlike a very similar instance in which he had watched his lover, as an ex-lover, enjoying himself in the backroom, _this _time he had yet to be noticed. The darker man leant back in the shadow of the opposing wall as he watched.

Across the way and still-oblivious to Brian's presence, Justin breathed deeply as the man below worked him so well in his mouth. Nathan knew how to hit all of the high notes, using a hand to give firm strokes, the other pulling gently on his balls while his lips sucked him off with fervor. Justin groaned lowly as he felt heat coiling in his belly, the brick of the unfinished wall scraping roughly where his bare shoulders made contact.

Then Nathan took a breather. His hands still worked the smaller man, but with his head left free he canted his neck, smiling up saucily. "Feel good?" he asked, even though it was very clear that he already knew he gave good head.

Justin nodded, pleasure-dazed, and couldn't help but stare again at that one insanely-attractive spot on the other man's neck. The human's pulse, heightened by drugs and endorphins and no doubt the exertion of performing oral sex for the last five minutes, could be seen beating frantically against the superficial barrier that was skin, almost as if it were a live thing that needed to escape.

Justin licked his lips, thinking that he could free it. "Come up here," he directed, voice unexpectedly hoarse. Nathan was quick to obey, an excited zeal sparked to life in his eyes. It was a zeal that hadn't been there when he'd been blowing him. Hardly able to breathe at what he was actually going to do, Justin touched fingers lightly at the other man's neck, right where he wanted to have him. "Turn around," he husked, exchanging places with the obviously eager man.

"Finally," Nathan said on a sigh, already facing the brick of the wall as Justin settled behind. He peered over his shoulder with interest, "You ever done this before?"

Justin raised an eyebrow. His pants were still open, his bare cock resting against the groupie's ass. It was an assumption on the other man's part, to think that he didn't plan to simply fuck him right then and there. Justin was stronger now, and immune to disease, he _could_ have just fucked him there; no warning, no condom, no permission. And as off-putting as the thought was to the young vampire, he could tell that to Nathan, it wasn't. The other man was moaning in arousal, in expectancy of what _might _happen.

Something dark and ugly swam through Justin's regard of the taller man at that. Nathan didn't care if he was raped, or infected, or any other horrible thing. All he'd care about would be if it was a vampire doing it to him. Just as this revelation was passing through the artist's mind, he caught sight of something that he'd missed out in the flashing pulse of Babylon's dance floor; the long sweep of Nathan's neck and shoulder was absolutely littered with tiny, faded scars. Bite marks.

Suddenly, Justin was able to see Nathan for exactly what he was: a junkie. It changed his attraction to the man, but it certainly didn't' change the fact that Justin was still hard against his ass, or that he was aching to make the blood come out from under his skin. It didn't change the fact that Justin was going to use the man for what he wanted, because Nathan would _let_ him. Petting at the human's arm, Justin whispered into his ear, "Is there anywhere I shouldn't bite?" He had no idea what might make the other man bleed out, and he didn't want to kill him.

Nathan answered with an impatient air that spoke volumes for how many times he'd let other vampires do this to him. "The big vein on my neck—it's the only obvious one. Bite that. You can't hurt me; arteries are further underneath the skin. You nick a vein and it bleeds much slower."

"Okay." _No time like the present_, Justin thought. In one respect, he was hungry. They'd skipped dinner in favor of these groupies, and then drugs and dancing had distracted them for hours more. But now with the beating pulse of someone right in front of his mouth, Justin felt a strong instinctual pull to just fucking eat. And in addition to the hunger was lust. More than just eating-ice-cream-on-top-of-Brian lust, but something that seriously smacked of a food fetish. He'd grown substantially harder against the backside of the human since the thought of sinking fang had come about. Bringing a hand to rest against the other man's shoulder, the other wrapping around his head to pull it to the side, Justin uttered, "Hold still."

Brian's lips parted in shock as he took in what was happening right in front of him. He thought he'd been watching something that would turn into sex. Justin had looked so blissed out with the other man's mouth around his cock, and Brian had been imagining his own mouth in place of it. When the young blonde had told the other man to get up, Brian hadn't been surprised that it was the taller of the two that ended up with his face to the wall—Justin wasn't a huge fan of being fucked standing-up, and certainly not by men he didn't know. Brian had leered when he'd thought he would see one of his favorite shows in the world: Justin giving it to another man up the ass.

But it didn't happen. Not even close. Justin left his pants around his hips, but instead of fucking, he _fed. _Brian could only stare in terrified fascination and with somewhat of a semi, as the scene unfolded in front of him. _His_ Justin, his flippant, light-hearted, artistic Sunshine, was _biting _someone. And not just biting; breaking skin. Logistically, Brian knew that it was what vampires did. But for some reason he had imagined that Justin would drink blood from a cup or something, maybe stock a mini fridge with bottles of the stuff, like Gatorade. So it was a jarring sight, to see the other man painted so dangerously before his eyes.

_This _was what Justin was, Brian thought, still staring. This was what Justin had meant earlier on the dance floor, when he'd claimed that Brian didn't know 'what' Justin was. Well, he'd been right. Brian hadn't known because he hadn't thought about it to the extent of the sight that was being laid out right in front of him. He wasn't human anymore. He was the man who could no longer go out in daylight, the man who—by his own admission—had gained a degree of strength that most men could not match, he was the man who would bite a guy's jugular in the backroom of Babylon and let slow tracks of black-red inch down said man's skin. He was a vampire.

But strangely enough, and as terrifying as the realization of how deadly his lover now was could have been, all Brian wanted to do was go over to him.

Justin squeezed his eyes shut tightly in pleasure. Drinking from the vein was _NOTHING _like the alternative. With Nathan's body trapped between his own and the wall, and nothing but groans of an addict's pleasure coming from the other man anyways, all there really was to do was revel in the feeling of skin, so smooth and taught, breaking open under the puncture of his teeth. One bite was all it had taken to have blood coming up to the surface.

The blonde vampire kept his lips pressed against the wound of his own making, swallowing greedily every time enough welled up to fill his mouth again. So _this_ was what drinking real blood was like! Evan hadn't exaggerated. In fact, the ravenous blonde thought as he continued to feed, the wiry man had given a rather understated review of the practice. Real blood was thinner than its packaged counterpart, having just enough body to roll around on your tongue. It scorched a liquid heat down the vampire's throat, warming his insides like a shot of hard liquor. And the taste…

How could he ever describe this taste, this exquisite flavor, to another person? Maybe he would say that it was like a perfectly-cooked steak and lobster dinner. But even that wasn't quite right. No, Justin knew, it went beyond that. More like: every aroma, every hearty bite, every finishing note to any and every succulent food you'd ever had; all combined into one, single longing that was satiated the moment the blood touched your tongue. Yeah, more like that.

That, plus the most unexpected and uncontrollable urge to fuck. Justin moaned into his mouthful, arms still tangled about the man who was his dinner. He would have fucked him too, if he'd had confidence in his coordination at the moment. As it was, he refrained in favor of drinking the man's blood as carefully and perfectly as he could. _Oh no_, he half-worried as he fed, _how would he ever give this up now_?

In front of him, Justin could feel Nathan's shoulder moving with the force of his arm. The aroused human was jacking himself off as his blood was leeched from his body. That thought shocked and maybe even disturbed Justin, but he pushed it aside in favor of continuing with quenching his thirst. The hungry man continued to drink with abandon, stopping only when Nathan grunted out his release, the motions of his arm ceasing. "Ugh!" he groaned, body sagging against the wall. "Fuck. That felt so good."

Justin pulled away, unsure as to how much blood was safe for him to take from the human who very much needed his own supply of the stuff. Wiping his mouth on the back of the other man's shirt, he breathed, "I never thought it would taste so good. …Thank you?" the blonde wasn't very sure whether thanks were in order or not. Somehow, being allowed to drink someone's blood seemed a much more intimate favor than a simple fuck or blow job. There were, after all, two messy puncture wounds on the man's neck now. He eyed them concernedly as blood still continued to seep slowly from them. "Are you going to be alright?"

Turning to face his companion, Nathan gave a hazed smile, "Don't worry, I've done this before. I'll be fine." Leaning down, he kissed Justin briefly on the mouth. "That was great."

Justin watched the other man wipe at his neck, saying, "I bet that's what you tell all the boys."

The groupie's lips curled up, "Just the ones who bite me." Winking, he slid a scrap of napkin from his jeans pocket and into one of Justin's cargos pockets—which were still bunched below his hips. "If you ever want to sink fang, call me." The paper securely in the vampire's pocket, Nathan edged away from their spot on the wall, before disappearing entirely into the blue dusk.

Justin blinked after the spot where the man disappeared. That was it? Sighing, the blonde reached down to touch himself where he was still very hard. He'd gotten dinner, and his dinner had gotten off. Suddenly, he was back to feeling objectified and used. It was unfortunate, since now that he'd fed he felt hornier than ever.

Turning to lean his back against the wall once more, Justin thought that if he had it to do again, he'd have started fucking Nathan before he bit him. A blink downwards to where his hand touched at his erection, and Justin was faced with the sight of the cowry shell bracelet resting against the bones of his wrist. _His _bracelet.

The blonde snorted. Brian wouldn't have been so stupid. He'd have fucked the guy first. _Prioritize, Justin, _he would have said. Hell, Brian probably would have fucked Justin while Justin fucked Nathan. The young vampire licked his lips at the arousing thought. Decidedly, he gave himself a long, hard stroke, blue eyes pretending that it really _was _Brian who wore the bracelet just then. If he'd just come in the groupie's mouth, if he'd just allowed himself to take advantage of the man the way he wanted to—and if he was being honest, the way that _Nathan _had clearly wanted him to—then he wouldn't be left in this state; freaking jerking himself off in the backroom of—

The vampire's thoughts cut off abruptly as he raised his eyes to see Brian standing right in front of him. Trying to control his expression, Justin's thoughts raced. Where had he come from? How long had he been standing there? …Had he seen?

"Brian—"

The rest of his words, whatever they were, were swallowed into the other man's lips, never meeting air. Justin exhaled in surprise from the kiss, his nostrils flaring. Newly-ingested blood surging through his veins, the young vampire's hands crept up to grab at Brian's tee shirt, at the scruff of his hair. Ostensibly to push him away, but that never happened. The darker man assaulted him with kisses, leaving no room for retaliation. After a moment, the blonde really didn't want to retaliate anyways. _What was Brian doing?! What was he thinking?_ Justin wondered in a rush.

Brian hadn't planned out what he would do. He had simply approached, and acted. How could he not have? The sight of the blonde standing there, abandoned and so beautiful and frustrated and fucking touching himself with Brian's bracelet on his wrist… it had heat rushing through his veins and straight down to his cock. Brian found himself desperately wanting to provide the young man with all of his desires, whatever they were. Justin wanted to dance? _He _wanted to be the one to dance with him. Justin wanted to feel good? _He _wanted to be the one to get him off. Justin wanted blood? …maybe he even wanted to be the one to give him that.

But no time had been spared to reflect further on those inclinations, because Brian had surged over and begun kissing him without a thought. Dance floor rejections had been forgotten. All that Brian could think of as he invaded the mouth of his ex-lover, was that he wanted him then and there, however he could have him. Later, he would blame the drugs he'd taken for such a vulnerable move.

Tongue swiping into the heat of Justin's willing mouth, Brian could taste him just as sweet and memorable as he'd ever been. But now there was a copper tang there as well, and Brian knew, even as he joined their lips so forcefully, that he was tasting the other man's blood in his mouth. He didn't care. He kept kissing him, _invading_ him.

Justin couldn't contain his groan as the other man invaded his senses: the sounds of their mouths working each other, the smell of his Tom Ford cologne, the feel of his strong hands pushing Justin right back up against the wall. The blonde gave a soft 'oomph' at the push, resurging to thrust himself back into the embrace. His mind screamed at him to stop, to think about who it was that he was kissing and touching. But drinking Nathan's blood had done something to him; erased some rational part of his mind that, even on the V, had functioned better before. Protestation of any sort was going to be hard to muster, he knew.

Brian had reached down to take his dick in hand, and Justin could only hiss. His skull collided painfully with the brick wall behind at the feeling of his ex-lover's practiced grasp stroking over his shaft. "Fuck, Brian," he hissed, and it sounded like a plea even to his own ears.

The provocative man raised hazel eyes to ask lowly, "Didn't finish?"

A humorless chuckle left Justin's throat. "I will, if you keep that up. Ah!" His eyes squeezed shut in agony as Brian increased the pace of the hand job.

"Good. You look like you could stand to release some tension," Brian's voice whispered in his ear. "Let me help you."

The voice was so damned good. Justin had to look away from those burning eyes at the memory of a thousand perfect bedroom words, whispered smoothly into his ears from in front, from behind, from every angle imaginable. Perfect words, filthy ones.

_Touch it. Suck it. …I love you. Bend over._ _Take it. …I want you around for a long time. _

Brian's lips sucked at his neck as Justin's eyes fluttered beneath the lids like some seizure, his mental barrage going unnoticed by the older man. So many words rushed through the emotional wasteland that his memory had become, echoing too loud to bear. They were all things that Brian had said, and that Justin knew he'd cherished at the time he'd heard them. Words that he was so sure would never be matched by another. A rush of memory spun through the blonde's mind like a movie reel, spurring a rush of emotions: passion, excitement, _obsession_.

_I just saw the face of God. His name is Brian Kinney._

Suddenly, the blonde vampire being jerked off against the wall realized: he had literally just been triggered back into some measure of feeling for this man. It was faint, but unmistakable. Foreign feelings that until that very second, had remained elusive were back again. Justin's unnaturally blue eyes blinked open in shock, a gasp issuing from his lips. "Shit!"

He remembered. He remembered broken snippets of those feelings of what it had felt like to lust after Brian in those first few months. But they were disjointed, and the young man couldn't focus on what he had recovered when Brian was still working him in his hand, kissing him and muttering silky things in his ear. There was still something missing—something important, but Justin couldn't focus on it now. A groan issued from Brian's lips, and it was then that Justin took notice of the older man's state of undress. Somewhere in the last few moments, he'd undone his fly. Brian's cock lay in a needy arc against Justin's hip, pressing into the skin of his stomach.

"Turn around," Brian was commanding. A condom was produced from somewhere, and he was already ripping it open with his teeth as he repeated, "Turn around, Sunshine."

As much as Justin wanted to get fucked, and as hard as his dick was, he felt himself inch away at the utterance of the nickname.

_Sunshine_.

Brian had said it like the name still applied to him, but the younger man knew that it didn't. _That was it, _he thought, heart sinking. _That was what was still missing_. Snippets of feelings of passionate obsession were not love, and he knew that he could not be that person—_sunshine—_for the other man. If he fucked him now, Justin would never be free of the demand, the assumption, that that one word held. His mind jerked in violent defensive reaction. "No," he murmured, stilling Brian's hand that held the condom. "Wait."

Brian looked surprised and flippant at the interruption. "What?" he asked. "I've got travel size lube too, don't worry."

ANY other night, Justin would have laughed. Because Brian did always come prepared. But tonight there was no humor to be found. Only lust, confusion, and uncertainty. Body still aching with want for the other man's touch, Justin hurriedly shook his head. "I'm sorry," he rushed, reaching to do up his pants. "I can't do this." He pushed away from his trapped space along the wall, making for a quick exit.

"Are you fucking _kidding me_?" Brian's voice sounded disbelievingly from behind. A quick glance back showed him still standing there, naked erection exposed to the air. "You're not seriously leaving me here like this?!"

Justin winced. And even though he hated to be that teasing trick—because he knew that's how Brian would view it—he shook his head apologetically. The young vampire walked right out of the back room of Babylon, his only explanation offered being, "I have to figure some stuff out before I can be with you."

Justin went back out into the club, into the night. And Brian was left furious, alone, and wanting.


	15. Chapter 15

" '_I have to figure some stuff out before I can be with you.'" _

From on top of Ted's kitchen counter, Brian scoffed, "That's literally what he said. And all the while there I stood—"

"—about to get your rocks off…"

"Yes, thank you for the recap Theodore. 'I have to figure some stuff out before I can be with you,'" Brian finger quoted yet again. Grumpily, he crunched another bite of carrot stick between his teeth. "What the fuck kind of lesbionic excuse is that?"

"It's about as lesbionic as you sitting in my kitchen complaining over a pint of Ben and Jerry's," Ted quipped from his spot on the sofa. Emmett was at the stove, whipping up something for a catering event.

"Uh, it's vegetables," Brian countered snottily, waggling the length of a carrot at him.

From a pace away, Emmett waved a scolding spatula in Brian's direction. "It's crudité, and I _told _you to stop eating it! Catfish tits, what do you think Mrs. Prestley is paying me for, half-eaten asparagus?"

Raising his eyebrows at Ted, Brian smirked, "It's _crudité_, Teddy. And it's Justin who's being a lesbionic twat. Not me."

"Hm." Ted went back to his perusal of that morning's paper, while Emmett cooked and Brian sulked. The trio had already had their ritual hangover breakfast at the diner, and now it seemed they'd gathered to listen to one of Brian's rare outpourings. As a singularly shielded man, the forthcoming attitude was usually only observed when he was either extremely high, or extremely upset. It was clear to pretty much everyone now, which of those two circumstances was in play.

"Well my aunt Lula always used to say that no matter how unusual the problem, if you try hard enough there's a solution to everything," Emmett was proclaiming from the stove, where a batch of pastry cream was being vigorously-stirred. "And in this case, it's to go find that little vampire and tell him what-for. He's obviously confused." Bringing his pot from the stove, the most confident member of their group fixed Brian with a knowing stare, "And if you weren't so stubborn you'd have already convinced him to fall back in mad passionate love with you."

"Oh for Christ's sake. This isn't some Streisand flick," Brian bemoaned, rolling his eyes. "He's inhuman, not insane. The idiot can clearly make his own decisions." A pause had Brian averting his gaze to his twiddling fingers, "However ludicrous they may be."

"Ludicrous?" Ted huffed, "Any man who _doesn't _choose promiscuous sex with Brian Kinney is out of his senses then?"

"No!" Brian argued lamely, "Just him. The little twat hasn't lost his memory—as I'm sure I already explained. He knows exactly what he's missing." Brian held out his arms for emphasis. "Me!" A scoff choked out of his throat, and he muttered, "What a moron."

Apparently Ted had had it with his friend's show of bravado, because he slapped his paper down onto the coffee table and turned to look Brian right in the eye. "Oh would you shut up? You just can't stand that he turned you down. Again."

"Falsehoods, Theodore."

"Admit it: you were the center of his universe and you LIKED it that way. Now he's less interested in you and more interested in sucking down hemoglobins, and you can't stand it."

Brian had abandoned his carrot stick, now glaring pissily at his perceptive friend. "Thank you, Freud." _God, _he thought, _maybe it had been a mistake to tell these two anything. _It certainly showed a weakness of character, on his part. He should have stuck with Michael. Mikey was the most reliable person for a good rant. Somewhat subconsciously though, the dark haired man suspected that his best friend wouldn't have given him the hard truths; he wouldn't have pressed him to find Justin and get him back. And so—again, definitely subconsciously—he hadn't gone to the comic book store to spill his guts. He'd gone to Ted's. Referring to his ex-partner yet again, Brian remarked, "He's hidey-holed himself away for this long. Who am I to change his mind now?"

"What happened to all that talk of 'he's just a stupid twenty one year old kid'?"

"Vampire's will be vampires," Brian shrugged with sweet sarcasm. Fishing around in his pocket, he found a stick of gum to chew. "Sunshine's messed up. Confused. He isn't going to come running back just because I whisper some sweet words at him."

"Well if you want the sun to orbit Planet Brian yet again, you'll have to have a more proactive attitude than that," Emmett advised distractedly. "Stop being such a queen. Be a man."

"Said the guy squirting creamy white goo into bun holes."

Brian snorted loudly at Ted's quip, while all Emmett did was glare. "No éclairs for you Ted Schmidt. And as for _you,_" his stern gaze swiveled to Brian, who promptly sucked his lips in impishly. "YOU need to stop eating my 1:00 brunch prep, get the heck out of this apartment, and go come up with a better plan for winning your boyfriend back than sitting around here and whining to us. Are you Brian Kinney or are you Brian Kinney?!" Brian opened his mouth to make a retort about the use of the _B _word, but the other man beat him to it, tacking on, "And don't go on about how he isn't your boyfriend. Some things just get old."

Emmett went right back to his cooking, Ted hurriedly dove back into his paper, and Brian was left to blink in shock at the irrefutable evidence that he'd just been put in his place by one Emmett Honeycutt. Not one to suffer such indignities lightly, the dark-haired man hopped from the counter, snatching an éclair away in what might have been called a viscous manner. "Well then," he said brusquely, shouldering-on his coat as soon as he was by the door, "I won't waste my breath on you two homos any longer."

"A nice day to you too," Ted remarked dryly from behind the arts section. He only emerged from hiding once the door had whooshed shut, and Brian was obviously out of the apartment and thus hearing range. A cautious glance was angled toward the kitchen, where escargot could be heard sizzling away in some butter. "Where do you think he's going?" Ted asked.

Emmett only shrugged, "Who knows. As long as it's not to Mrs. Prestley's 1:00 brunch, I don't really care."

Outside the apartment, in the closed-off interior of his Jeep, Brian sat where he'd parked that morning and stewed over what to do next. Justin said 'stay away,' while everyone else said 'go after him.' What would he do? Haphazardly, Brian wished that it wasn't too early in the day for a drink, because he certainly felt like he needed one. Thinking too much about emotional topics tended to make him want to drink. And boy, was he thinking.

The night before had been an eye-opener, to be sure. Justin had finally shown himself again. Really SHOWN himself. And if he was being honest with himself, Brian couldn't quite claim that he'd hated any part of it. Dancing with the blonde again had been like coming home. Seeing him fuck around in the back room had been arousing as hell, as had their brief time together against that brick wall. Even seeing the darker side of the young vampire as he bit into that man's neck… Well, that part had been fascinating at least. Running his hands against the leather of the steering wheel, Brian tried to shake off the memory of how he'd watched, terrified and turned on, as the younger man had sunk fang.

Dark thoughts had run through his mind then. Thoughts of Justin, thoughts of the man beneath Justin's lips, even thoughts of what _he_ himself would do in the other human's place. There had been that undeniable drive to go over there and supply the young artist with everything he had ever desired. He had even wanted to offer Justin his own neck…

"Fuck." Brian smacked his hands hard enough against the steering wheel to cause pain. He cursed. Actually allowing, let alone _wanting _anybody poke holes in his body violated rule number one of the Kinney school of thought: look out for yourself before all others. And now he was getting a hard on at the thought of being someone's dinner? Brian sighed. He wasn't ready to contemplate _that_ yet. _Let's tackle one thing at a time, shall we? _he thought depreciatively to himself. Last night had also been a total bust, of course. Justin had fled, leaving Brian aroused and alone; his least favorite combination of things to be. To put it mildly: it had sucked.

The only question now was: was he going to simply leave it at that and accept his Justin-less fate? Sitting there parked outside his friend's building, the self-centered man scoffed. _No way_. Brian begrudgingly remembered his friend's words: _No matter how unusual the problem, if you try hard enough there's a solution to everything_. Well, Justin being turned from a coma victim into some emotionally-wrecked vampire _was _an unusual problem. But the brunette's lips only twisted up wryly. If he could take down a corrupt mayoral candidate and emerge with a cent to his name, if he could ride a bike to fucking Canada and back with a broken collar bone, if he could upstart his own company, beat cancer, _and _rebuild his bombed-out shell of a club all within the span of a year, then he sure as hell could figure out how to make Justin remember his emotions.

Sitting there in his car, Brian clenched his eyes shut. _He just had to make him remember_. It wasn't impossible, after all. He'd done it once before, after Justin had lost his memory of the bashing. Given, back then the problem had been the loss of a few memories, not the clean sweep of an entire relationship's worth of emotions, but Brian was sure that he could make him remember this too. Somehow, he'd make him remember.

A car horn sounded from the end of the block, bringing the contemplative man's attention back to the present. He sat up straighter in the driver's seat, turning his key in the ignition. One thing was for sure, Brian thought determinately. He was going to get to that little bloodsucker, no matter _who_ he had to ask for help. Putting the Jeep into gear, he turned right down the very next street. His course: Pittsburg General Hospital.

Outside of the loft, Justin thought that the door into Brian's private world looked way more intimidating than it ever had before. When had so much riveted steel become so foreboding? The blonde reached to punch in the keyless code that would unlock it. To his side, Evan was removing his sunglasses, both men's extensive collection of outerwear draped across an arm.

"This is nuts," he muttered darkly, unwinding the scarf from about his head. "We look like really hideous Muslim women."

Justin snorted, and slid open the heavy door. The apartment was the same. Brian had moved the couch to the wall again, the huge, fuck-on-the-floor pillows now arranged closest to the door. But that was the only change. The loft was still just as sexy and pristine as ever, as if it hadn't even noticed the sudden vacancy of one of its two occupants. It faced them accusingly, almost as if daring them to go ahead with their plan to intrude. "What was your alternative," Justin muttered, eyes taking in the expanse of the place where he'd used to live, "Ditch the outerwear, get a really bitchin' tan?" They'd swaddled themselves, taken a taxi over, and were paying the driver a fortune to idle outside as they snooped.

"Uh, I was thinking: not come here at all." The darker man begrudgingly trailed his counterpart into the loft. "What's this supposed to accomplish again?"

"Maybe help me get some more of my memory back," Justin replied thoughtfully. He was edging along the kitchen, running fingertips faintly over Brian's liquor bottles. "I told you what happened last night."

"At Babylon. Yeah, you got some feelings back." Evan shrugged, "So what? You get a trace emotion of passionate feelings, and you're just going to go back to him now? I thought we were going to do this together."

He didn't have to explain what "this" was. They had left the care of the safe house for their own apartment. They were friends, roommates, and relearning how to live again together. The younger vampire glanced up from his perusal, attuned to his friend's discomfort. The look in the other man's eyes was telling. It told Justin that coming back to the real world was something that he could do alone, but which Evan could not.

"I'm counting on you," Evan confided. "I'll have to go back to the home if you go back to him."

Justin scrunched his face uncomfortably. He'd been the impetus for the move, but he didn't really want to be Evan's lifeline. "I never said I was coming back here," he placated. In fact, if he thought hard about it, returning to live with Brian sounded not only ridiculous at this point, but a little frightening as well. "I just want to see if there's anything to what I felt last night." He gestured around the apartment, "And this is the safest way to do it."

Evan gave a nervous laugh, meandering over to sit on one of the living room poufs. He flopped down into the giant pillow, groaning, "If you call breaking and entering safe."

"We didn't break anything."

"How do you know he won't come back here and find us snooping around?"

In the bedroom, Justin glanced up from his perusal of Brian's bedside items. "He's at hangover breakfast."

"How do you know that? Did you call him or something?!"

_Jesus, _Justin thought, _jealous much? _"Trust me," he drawled. "It's ten o'clock on a Saturday; he's in the third from the last booth at the Liberty Diner. The gang's all there, the table's covered with food, and he's either making lewd jokes about the coffee creamer, or else about somebody's sausage links. He's at hangover breakfast."

Justin continued his search as if it would yield something. Brian's watch, the condoms and lube, Brian's cologne, his pillow… _put your hips over a pillow, like this. _And sentimental thoughts. Memories of first times, last times, and all the things he'd learned in between.

"Do you miss him?"

Glancing towards his friend's still-slumped figure in the living room, Justin queried, "Huh?"

"Do you miss him? At all?"

Justin blinked in surprise, but after a long, silent moment, finally managed to admit, "Yes. I didn't yesterday, or any day before. But now I guess I kind of do."

"Well then I guess you've got _something _back," the other man said, sounding almost disgusted at the fact. "You can't miss someone you don't care about."

Justin couldn't bear to answer the other vampire at that, even though the assertion made sense. _You know it's true_, his mind told him. _How can you miss Brian, _it nagged him,_ if you don't remember loving him? _Going on what others had inferred to him, and from his own, strictly fact-based memories, the blonde knew that he had in fact been in love with Brian Kinney. And the worst part was that, even though he no longer felt that way, Justin could tell that it had been a _wonderful _way to feel. Probably like butterflies-in-your-stomach, sunlight on your skin, first boy-boy kiss you'd ever had, kind of wonderful. It was really quite frustrating, like waking up from an amazing dream that you'd had, but couldn't quite remember. Yeah, kind of like that.

Going back down the bedroom stairs and into Brian's dining area, the blonde figured that he'd just have to find something to jog his memory again. There had to be something that he could do to bring back more solid emotions, more meaningful ones. After all, feeling passion for Brian Kinney wasn't exactly a novel emotion. Justin was pretty sure that on any given night half of the men in Babylon were able to kindle lust in their hearts for said man.

Shaking his head, Justin knew that he'd either have to find some old memories to jump start his damaged brain, or else make a more serious attempt at putting Brian from his mind altogether. "Not being in his freaking apartment would be a start," Justin mumbled to himself.

"Huh?"

"Nothing," Justin muttered. "Maybe this was a stupid idea. I don't know what I was thinking." For all he knew, this would be the one Saturday that Brian came back to the loft early. The idea of being found there, especially with Evan in tow, was cringe-worthy. "Come on," he suggested, "let's go."

"Sure, just let me cover up," Evan said exasperatedly. He'd begun to re-cover his head with the scarf, but halted at the sight of a pastel canvas over by the television. Well actually, it was directly in front of the television. "Hey," he breezed, "check it out." When Justin had come over to take a look, Evan asked, "Is that one of yours?"

Blue eyes gazed in surprise at the portrait that'd been propped on the entertainment console, its thick paper clipped to sturdy backing. "Yeah," he said, walking closer. "I had it at the studio before… before the accident. I guess I never realized that it was gone."

"How could you not?" Evan was marveling. "It's so good. Beautiful."

The young blonde blushed, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. "I never finished it." The portrait was of Brian, the bright yellow and pinks of oil pastels depicting the older man in a happier light than when the artist had last seen him. "I had a mental block, couldn't go a single pigment further," he finished softly, reaching out to touch the paper lightly. It was a weird place to hang a drawing, since the TV was then effectively unusable. How had Brian been watching his old westerns, if this stupid piece of scrap art had been leaning here for weeks?

"A 'mental block,' how ironic."

"That's all I am now," Justin agreed despondently. "One big fucking mental block. I thought there might be a way to get past it but now I'm not so sure. I wish I could remember. _God, _I wish I could remember this, him… us."

Back to being covered up in layers, Evan had been carefully watching how Justin stared at the drawing so sadly. As his new friend took the paper from its perch and carefully rolled it up, the darker man felt a stab of uncertainty within himself. It had seemed so perfect before, that Justin didn't remember or want to be with the people from his past. It had been something that made them alike, their solitude. And then they had set out together, just the two of them. Was it all going to be ruined so soon? Maybe Evan cared about his new friend, but maybe he didn't like the idea of Justin rejoining Brian either. Frowning, the conflicted man tried to push the uneasy feelings away. He reached out to hand the mulling artist his own jacket and scarf. "Here," he said. "Let's go back to the studio. Bedroom walls aren't going to put themselves up."

It lightened Evan's heart a bit, when Justin offered a tight-lipped smile and agreed. "Yeah, let's go home."

Back to the hospital. Back to the basement. Back to the ridiculously entitled ward of _Special Recovery._

It was "special" alright. Brian snorted at the irony of the fact that the place in the hospital where they turned people into vampires was housed right across the hall from where they stowed the bodies of the patients who'd been less lucky. Or luckier, depending on how you looked at it. _Just those who were clever enough to leave that particular provision out of their 'continued care directives,' _the provocative man thought as he strolled past the morgue. In the institutionally-decorated waiting room of the unit, he looked about for the man whom he was seeking. Only the resident blood sucker would be able to answer all of the questions he had, but Brian certainly wasn't looking forward to the chat.

He found him in a side-office, typing away on a computer. When Aiden saw him, his fingers stopped typing and he placed his hands calmly atop the desk's glossy surface. "Mr. Kinney. This is an unexpected surprise."

Brian rolled his eyes. "That's redundant. A surprise is, by definition, unexpected." Some small measure of satisfaction—however childish—came when the other man could be seen tightening his lips. "I came to ask you about Justin."

Aiden blinked. "I've made it quite clear on the phone that I cannot divulge his location to you, let alone the personal details of his condition."

Brian smirked, casually inserting himself into one of the other man's office chairs. "I know enough about all of that already." Ignoring the other man's curious frown, he elaborated, "I want you to talk with me in generalities; hypothetically."

"Now who's being redundant?" Aiden asked, steepling his fingers.

"Touché. Are you going to help me?"

"Help you do what, Mr. Kinney? You haven't told me your purpose in even coming here. What is so important that you couldn't communicate over the phone?"

Brian suppressed a snide remark. He had to remain in the vampire's good graces if he was going to get any useful information out of him. Altering his tactic, he admitted, "I've seen Justin recently. It was by chance when I was out the other night. I want to get him to remember…" Brian had paused, "to remember his life. His emotions for it and all that. But I need to know how best to go about it. You seem to be the expert in vampirology, so here I am. As for coming in person well," Brian simpered, "I like to offer a personal touch to matters of this importance."

"How generous of you," Aiden drawled. Up until that point, he had not bothered to obscure his regard for the other man. Brian Kinney knew how little he was liked. The assertive man had been nothing but rude to him from day one, after all. He'd even tried to assault him when Aiden had been forced to deliver the news of Justin's transfusion. However, the man behind the desk knew that this prejudiced dislike was largely due to Brian's perception of him as his lover's murderer, and so it was with a practiced air of compassion that he asked his next question. "What did you want to discuss, _hypothetically_?"

Brian held out his palms. "I need to know what makes him tick. Or at least, what makes people like him… people like _you_, tick," he amended. He needed to find out what the fuck had happened to the Justin he knew, to have him turning Brian down on the dance floor _and _in the backroom of _Babylon_. But the shielded man didn't say that, instead he inquired, "He doesn't have emotional memory. Is that something that happens to every vampire?"

Aiden shook his head. "No. If any vampire experiences memory loss, emotional or otherwise, I would attribute it to other trauma, not the transfusion itself."

"Transfusion," Brian said, repeating the other man's word. "That's how you turned him… I mean, how you would hypothetically turn a person into a vampire."

"I've told you that before Brian."

Brian gave a winningly insincere smile at the use of his first name. "Right. Well what about when a vampire bites someone. As in to drink their blood?" _Wikipedia _had been a little vague on some of these finer points.

"The only way to turn someone into a vampire is by a complete—or nearly complete—transfer of blood. It can be done manually, but that is very dangerous. A one-way transfer of blood isn't going to make someone a vampire." Aiden sniffed, "And we _don't _encourage drinking from the vein. It can be addictive."

Brian raised his eyebrows. "For the vampire?"

"For the human." Aiden shrugged, "Vampires will claim that they're addicted to it, but that's like comparing a heroin addiction to an addiction for fatty foods; not the same at all. Humans bear the brunt of the burden in this case."

_Hmm_, Brian thought. He'd have to remember that piece of information for the next time he felt some ridiculous urge to let Justin take a chomp out of him. Moving on, he asked, "Are there any other psychological changes?"

It went unsaid that Brian was referring to those who'd been turned into vampires, but Aiden understood. "No," he answered finitely. "Depression and even anxiety are common with any major life change, but they're not unique to our condition."

Mentally, Brian snorted at the other man's use of the word "condition." He was however, able to hold the derisive gesture in check. _Be nice_, he cajoled himself. "Okay. So…" He thought carefully about what his next question would be. It was absurdly limiting that he couldn't just ask outright queries regarding Justin. Damn those pesky privacy laws. It was those very laws that had kept him so far out of contact with his Sunshine for this long. Brian looked over the desk to the face of the other man, and his brow pinched. _That_ man, that attractive, annoyingly-calm vampire that'd flushed Justin's veins with his own blood, had been allowed the privilege of contact. From day one, Brian knew. He was Justin's freaking doctor, for Christ's sake. His therapist. Uneasily, Brian wondered if he'd been even more to the young man. Suddenly, he knew what his next question would be.

"Does the vampire who creates another vampire share a special mental bond with them or something like that?" It was borderline obnoxious to think about, since if it were true, then Brian would be forced to face the fact that this handsome vampire currently shared a stronger connection with Justin than Brian himself did. The thought made him want a drink. It made him jealous. Stupid really, since Brian Kinney did NOT get jealous.

But Aiden quickly put that possibility to rest, answering, "Not anything beyond what you'd expect two people sharing a circumstance to have. A man with HIV will feel a special bond to another like him, I'd imagine."

Brian pursed his lips where he sat, "Interesting that you'd choose that example." In his mind, he thought of Ben and Hunter. Special bond indeed. Okay, so maybe it was a relief to know that Justin wasn't experiencing some sort of supernatural, ESP-related intimacy with the other man. Brian supposed he'd watched too many vampire movies. _Moving on, _he thought. "In your professional experience with people who have lost their memories, what would a treatment plan consist of?" _There_, he thought smugly, _that ought to be hypothetical enough for the good doctor._

Aiden looked thoughtful for a moment, and Brian suspected that the other man was trying to think of a way to answer without brining any direct mention of Justin into the conversation. "Well…" he ventured, "that would depend on the nature of the memory loss. If, say, a certain someone were to have lost _emotional _memory, then I would direct him—or her—to focus on the tactile memories that they still possessed, and to try and imagine the associated feelings. Visual imagery exercises, that sort of thing." He folded his hands and said, "Or maybe if he—I mean _they_—had held certain interests or experiences that could be used as more deliberate triggers. That would be something I would take into account. If Just—I mean, _he or she_—"

"—Oh for god's sake!" Rolling his eyes, the human of the pair interrupted, "We both know who we're talking about. Just say his name." Folding his hands as if a saint in prayer, Brian added, "I promise I won't tell."

Aiden didn't look placated, but he did honor the request. "_Justin_ has sizeable memory loss. I would suggest journaling, exposure therapy, and looking for any possible triggers, but…" his eyes slid wearily down to his desktop.

"But?" Brian was repeating. "But what?"

When Aiden met his eyes again, it was with a heavy look. "But I'm not his therapist anymore. He left the safe house a couple of days ago. I don't know where he is. My suggestions for therapy are relatively useless if I don't have a patient."

"WHAT?" Brian glared at the other man. "What do you mean he just left?! What the hell do you do: just let them walk out of that place?"

"Of course," Aiden was answering testily. "It's not an institution, Brian. They're not committed. It's my understanding from what other residents have reported to me, that Justin went away with a young man he'd befriended. Another resident until very recently."

Brian blinked, "Another vampire?" Privately, he thought of the odd-looking, darker man that Justin had been dancing with in _Babylon_, the one whom he'd introduced as his friend. "Evan?" he asked.

"You know him?" For the first time during their meeting, Aiden looked surprised. "You said you saw Justin. I take it Evan was with him?"

"Yeah." Brian watched the other man through a perceptive squint. Aiden didn't seem enthused about the mention of this other vampire—this Evan. "Why?" he asked carefully. "What's wrong with him?"

"Wrong?" Aiden sat back in his chair defensively. "Nothing… innately."

"I hear a 'but' coming on." Brian hoped that Aiden wouldn't hedge around this issue. He himself had gotten a weird feeling around the dark-haired young vampire, even if it had been hard to look away from him. "If Justin's hanging out with bad people, I want to know about it." Absentmindedly, Brian wondered where the two could be now. If they weren't still at the inaptly-named_ Perry Home for Wayward Youth_, then where the hell were they?"What has you looking so morbid about this Evan guy?" Brian pressed.

"Evan is… complicated," the vampire behind the desk sighed. "Hypothetically, any vampire should be able to reintegrate back into the human world, once they've become acclimated to the physical changes of their condition. But—hypothetically—if a person wasn't very good at being a human in the first place, being a vampire isn't exactly an easy change for them. Some people might get… stuck."

"So you're saying this guy is messed up?" Brian huffed. _Great, the little twat's gone and made best friends with an undead psychopath._

"He's not a psychopath," Aiden asserted, breaking with his train of hypotheticals to echo the other man's thoughts. "He's just failed to thrive. He… could be trouble, if the right situations present themselves. There was an incident when I first started counseling him."

Brian's eyes widened, "What sort of 'incident'? Like: a fender bender? Soliciting a prostitute?"

"Like: A human died. Another new vampire that was with them ended up killing himself." At the human's upset expression, Aiden continued, "No criminal charges were ever pressed. Look, Brian you have to understand: Evan was a non-functional human of multiple addictions when I met him. He hated himself."

"I'm beginning to agree with the sentiment," Brian muttered darkly. That little undead prick better not be getting Justin into any trouble…

"Yes well, he hated himself enough to try and commit suicide." Aiden chuckled, little to no amusement in the sound. "But he was smart. He did it right in front of me, where he knew I'd have to try and save him." Dark brown eyes slid up to acknowledge hazel ones, "Suffice it to say that he didn't get a transfusion like Justin did."

"How did you know him?"

Aiden looked almost embarrassed to answer. "I said feeding from the vein is stupid. I didn't say I've always followed my own advice. He was my meal for a while." A self-depreciating slice of smile graced his face, "Like I said: being bitten by a vampire is addicting for the human. And he had a lot of addictions."

"You were one of them," Brian supplied, trying not to frown. Until now, he hadn't cared much for the upstanding example of a vampire. Now he cared for him even less. "And you went around biting a junkie to get your rocks off."

"Evan wanted a way out of his life. He chose me as that way. I took the Hippocratic oath; I had to do everything I could to save him."

"And you did."

Aiden shook his head, correcting, "I didn't. The kid escaped his addictions for sure. He woke up a shiny new vampire, no withdrawal symptoms to speak of. But vampirism doesn't create something where nothing was before; it didn't make him a meaningful person." Aiden sighed resignedly, "Being this way hasn't done anything useful for him. He's desperate for experiences that will make him feel real, I know that much. Sometimes he finds them too. Hunting out cheap thrills was what got him into trouble the last time around. That's why I worry for Justin. I don't want him to end up being one of Evan's 'thrills'."

Brian chewed his lip thoughtfully where he sat. _Me neither, _he wanted to say. He also wanted to say something along the lines of, "Why the fuck did you let him get entangled with your other patients?! But he held his tongue. Aiden had been very useful today. He might be very useful in the future. If he ever wanted to pump the hospital's resident blood sucker for information again, he'd have to play nice. "Well," he said aloud instead, "I'm going to have to track them down. Is there anywhere that you think this Evan guy would go?"

Aiden looked apologetically across the desk, "I'd assumed Justin was directing their move. Evan has always been reluctant to leave the safe house on his own. He… attaches himself to people."

"I see." Brian's tone was not lacking in displeasure. "Fine then. I'd better go." _Shit_, Brian thought to himself. Where the hell would they be, if it was left up to Justin? _Think Brian think, _his mindurged. Then suddenly, he had it. Justin really wasn't that sneaky, the brunette knew. He was nearly a creature of habit, and certainly a creature of comfort. So it reasoned to follow that, if a need for shelter suddenly presented itself to the young blonde, he would go to a place with which he was familiar. And since Brian knew for a fact that Justin hadn't holed up in Michael's old bedroom anytime recently, that really only left one refuge.

Justin was living in that shithole studio again.

Standing, Brian considered offering his hand to the other man for a shake, but wound up ignoring the possibility in favor of his own dignity. Sometimes you just had to maintain the dominant position over people. And if there was one thing Brian Kinney knew how to do, it was how to act superior to others. In lieu of a handshake, he simply stalked to the door, departing with the pleasantry of, "See you around doc. It was a pleasure having this little _hypothetical _chat with you."


	16. Chapter 16

That next week, Brian went to the studio with a mission in mind. His plan: to convince one Justin Taylor that whatever else he was going through, he _could _allow himself to be in a relationship.

It wasn't going to be easy. That much the older man knew. Justin barely remembered what they'd shared together, could hardly feel it anymore. Plus, when it came to reminding Justin of their "relationship," let alone their love, Brian knew that he was probably the worst possible candidate for the job. He had always been the one to refuse to acknowledge said love at every turn, after all. Any and every word of sentiment from his lips would be like pulling teeth for him to utter. But by god, he'd pull every fucking tooth out if it would get Justin back in his arms, in his bed, in his life. A guy had to try.

So for the past four days, Brian had laid low. He knew where Justin was living and so felt no rush to run over and declare undying affection for the younger man. Instead, Brian was patient, and he was smart. He planned and he schemed and he brainstormed, coming up with a list of ways in which he might jog his lover's memory, as it were. With the suggestions he'd gotten from Aiden kept in mind, by that Tuesday Brian felt quite confident that the newly-formulated Kinney method of memory restoration was going to be a resounding success. Maybe he'd market a book when it was all said and done.

The dark-haired executive had been able to leave the office a few minutes early. He'd told Cynthia to push his last phone meeting of the afternoon to the next day, citing more important matters that demanded his time. Print concepts for Tropica's yogurt were going to have to wait, because it was time for an intervention. And that was precisely why, at about a quarter till five, he found himself placed under heavy scrutiny outside a shitty studio apartment.

Standing before the open doorway into Justin's living space, Brian tried to look completely casual as the blonde eyed him suspiciously. "What?" he asked innocently. "Are these. particularly. difficult. words?"

"You want to come in '_just to talk'_?" Justin queried skeptically, repeating the older man's words from seconds before.

"Scout's honor," Brian said winningly, shifting his briefcase to hold up two straight fingers.

Justin only rolled his eyes and stepped aside so that the other man could enter. "The boy scout salute involves _three_ fingers, Brian."

"Shoot, so _that's _why they kicked me out. I always figured it had to do with fucking around on camp trips," the older man delivered half-seriously, his attention sweeping about the renovated apartment as he stepped farther in. Behind, Justin could be heard closing the door. "Love what you've done with the place," he murmured. Walls had been put up, windows had been scrubbed, and furniture had been replaced with newer, shinier things. It looked like a freaking clean sweep, and Brian couldn't say he disapproved. Though it was disheartening to see how well Justin was cleaning up without him. "It almost feels habitable in here."

"Yeah well, you'd be surprised what a few trips to IKEA can accomplish." Justin walked a perimeter around Brian, avoiding him to go over to the work table where he'd presumably been before the interruption of a guest had occurred. "Why are you all dressed up?" he waved his computer stylus at the other man's creaseless Prada, "This isn't exactly the Pittsburgh Gallery of Fine Art."

"I came from work," Brian admitted. What he didn't say was that it would have been easy to change. But he had wanted to show up looking like sex on a catwalk, and Justin _had _always said that Brian's "professional self" made him hot for it. There was no stop that Brian wouldn't pull out to get Justin back. It smacked of desperation however, and so Justin didn't need to know. Surveying the younger man, Brian allowed himself to finally take a good look at just what it was he was so desperate to get back.

Justin was barefoot, which put him at even more a height disadvantage than usual. His jeans and shirt were ones which Brian recognized as "work clothes," old ink and oil spots spackled around the hem of his tank. His hair was as utterly shorn as it'd ever been, and his posture screamed tension. Brian knew why that must be, letting his eyes trail over the other man from top to bottom and back again in that way that always made Justin shiver. He shivered just then, right as their eyes locked. "Back to buzz cuts I see," Brian commented. He'd quite liked the alternative.

But Justin was running a self-conscious hand across his head. "Oh, yeah I forgot. Yesterday was haircut day. …Shut up, don't laugh!" he urged at the other man's chuckle. "I actually have to have an official, weekly "haircut day" now. I told you that before. Besides," he sighed, "It'll be past my ears again in four days anyways."

Looking about the apartment, Brian shrugged, "My offer of Nando still stands."

"I don't need your 'master stylist'. I can't afford him. Now are you going to tell me how you found out where I was? Or what you're doing here at… four fifty in the afternoon?"

"I didn't know when would be a good time to drop in, based on your sleep schedule… or lack thereof."

To the side, Justin snorted. "Lack of. I still haven't mastered waking state."

_Right_, Brian thought to himself, _Vampire meditation. _Justin had told him they didn't sleep. Glancing across the studio's remaining open space, the darker man could see that the bed Justin usually used had been replaced with a cheap Swedish model. He forced himself to restrain a sneer. "Well that's about eight more productive hours in the day then, but…" he'd glided over to the bed, gracelessly flopping himself across most of its expanse, "how the hell are you supposed to fuck anybody for eight hours on this flimsy thing?"

From in front of his computer, Justin was frowning. "I don't. Would you get off of my roommate's bed?"

The word "roommate" took the wind right out of Brian's sails, though he was careful not to let it show. _Fuck, _he instantly thought, _he's living with the psychopathic vampire after all. _"Evan?" he asked aloud, pulling himself disdainfully from the covers. Brian could tell from the wide set of Justin's blue eyes, that the younger man hadn't expected him to remember the other vampire from their brief time at _Babylon. _

"Seriously?" Justin drawled, focus returned to his digital work. "You couldn't remember my name after you first had sex with me, but you remember his?"

"Glad to hear you still recall some of our time together," Brian muttered quietly, and not without a hint of malice. "I'd never get you back if you didn't at least remember how monumental we've always been in bed."

"Remembering has never been the problem and you know it." There was a faint hint of a blush to Justin's cheeks, which did not go unnoticed by the other man. "The problem is more complicated than that."

"Right," Brian bit out. "Your 'emotions'."

"I don't expect you to understand. You never had many of them yourself."

A frown marred the darker man's face at the insult. "Yeah well, you'd be surprised how easily they surface these days. Although I can't say it isn't overly lesbionic even for you, to refuse sex just because you can't emote. Ditching me in the backroom of—" a pause, and then a squint. "What are you working on?" He sidestepped, coming closer to where the young artist was working. Justin had been using the tablet on the table to studiously ignore his words, and Brian really wasn't in the mood to be ignored. He'd come there to put his dignity on the line, after all. The least the little twerp could do was pay attention. "What is that?" There was a man's face on the screen, painted realistically against a light background. Justin seemed to be fiddling with a little text box of font choices.

"It's for an account I'm doing," Justin muttered, fingers manipulating the text into a bold, blocky font. He tapped the screen and words popped up at the bottom of the ad. Words that had Brian sucking in a breath through his teeth.

"You're still working for him?!"

His tone of ire drew Justin's inhumanly-blue eyes away from the screen, a feat soon dampered by the blonde's blasé reply of, "Why shouldn't I? It's good money."

Brian couldn't believe what he was hearing. "His asshole of a son almost killed you. He did kill you."

"Brian please. I didn't die."

"We lost you."

"I'm right here."

"Well you weren't for a while!" Brian stressed, his voice full of painful memories. Ones which Justin would never have to share. _Naïve little brat_. "Do have any idea how serious this has all been for us?" he asked, voice tight. "For me?" He gave the younger man a moment to acknowledge his words, before continuing carefully, "It was… agony. Literally the worst possible thing that I can imagine having to go through, when you were in the hospital—a fucking vegetable."

"You handled it well enough the last time I was in a coma," Justin countered, his attempt at a snipe coming out a bit weaker than intended.

"Right. 'The last time.'" Brian had to hold his tongue at Justin's unspoken accusation. He'd never told the other man about his nightly vigils at the hospital. _And I shouldn't fucking have to,_ he insisted to himself. Not that it would matter anyway, now that Justin didn't give a flying fuck about him. Brian frowned as the idea surfaced that he'd finally lost his stalker, and Ted's snide words from days ago echoed through his mind, unbidden:

_You were the center of his universe and you LIKED it that way_. _Now he's less interested in you and you can't stand it._

Well, maybe that was true after all, Brian thought. Maybe that was just what love was at its core; enjoying another person's obsession with you. "The bashing was different," he hissed in lieu of admission, getting closer to the younger man's face where he sat. "You were brain dead. All the doctors were telling us you'd never wake up, that you'd have a freaking heart attack and flatline. And then your mother had to go and leave the decision to unplug you up to me—"

"—she did what?" Justin looked shocked into silence where he sat. He could only watch as the darker man nodded his head gravely,

"Yeah, that's right. She flew all the way out here to cry her tears like everybody else, and then announced that she couldn't let you go. She was going to let ME do the honors. And I was going to do it. I was actually going to kill you. So don't you dare try to tell me how well I could have 'handled' it," he said lowly, hazel eyes burning with a little more russet than usual. "You will _never_ know what that felt like… what it _is_ like to watch the most important thing in the fucking world lay there with wires and tubes and machines, and know that you're going to be the one to rip it all away. And worst of all: to know that you're going to do it willingly." A sort of snarl had marked Brian's face, his best attempt at forcing back any wetness that might otherwise accumulate near the corners of his eyes. He'd had enough of crying, and no way was he going to let it happen now in front of Justin. Those two weeks at the hospital were not easy to revisit, and but for educating his ex-lover on the circumstances of that horrible ordeal, he really had no desire to do it. "Maybe it doesn't seem so awful to you. You got to wake up all shiny and new. You never had to see the shit show it was before."

"You don't know what I went through either," Justin countered, feeling quite bombarded by the other man's speech. "Do you think any of this has been easy for me? Physically_ or _mentally? Do you think that I _enjoy _separating myself from everyone I've ever known? Jesus Brian." Standing, he strode to the far wall in an attempt to put some distance between them, but Brian only followed.

As he was effectively cornered by the wall, Justin found that he could smell Brian's cologne. The smell sparked some feeling of peace in him, despite his current situation. That smell was what had always clung to the other man's neck, his suit jackets, his pillow… That smell meant sex and safety and comfort. _That _smell meant that Brian was nearby, which until very recently, had always been an extremely good thing. Justin shuddered at the feeling, not saying anything in mention of it. Brian already had him crowded against a wall in his own fucking studio, their bodies pressed close together. Who knew what the older man would do if he got wind that Justin had already regained a few trace feelings towards him?

"Fine then. I may not know what all you've gone through," Brian was saying as they stood so close, "But you're here now. You're mostly functional and alive. And it's a lame-ass excuse to use a few measly personal hang-ups as the reason for why we can't be together anymore."

Justin had screwed up his brow. "A 'few measly hang-ups'?" he argued. "That's what you call this? I'm a—."

"—I know what you are," the older man interrupted, voice brusque. "As if I could forget." Brian didn't mean anything by it, but Justin seemed to take his meaning the wrong way…

"Are you complaining? Jesus, when it comes to vampirism I'm surprised you didn't go off and do it first!" A finger was poked accusingly into Brian's chest. "You're the one who's so obsessed with youth and beauty."

"I'm not complaining about you being a vampire," Brian clarified. "After what happened? Hell, I'll take you any way I can get you."

"Gee, thanks." Averting his gaze to the floorboards, Justin ventured, "You know, I don't get you. You'll fuck vampires that you don't even know, but you didn't want me to be one. Hell, I heard that you didn't even want them to resuscitate me at all. I heard that you cussed the nurses out, punched Skylar Van Dorn halfway across the lobby, and even tried to attack Aiden."

"You're damned right I punched that punk. He drove you straight into a river and had the nerve to wander around the hospital searching for 'Justin something'." Brian defended. "Stupid prick." Against the wall Justin sighed, looking despondent. So they were back to square one with Brian fixating on his hatred for Van Dorn. Brian seemed to realize the same thing, and calmed enough to offer, "Look: I never wanted you to die. And if things had happened differently… maybe I wouldn't have been so upset about them turning you."

"Differently?"

Brian bit his lip. _Yeah, like me not being high out of my mind and inconsolable with grief for most of those two weeks. _"It just happened so fast," he said instead, "and I had no clue what was going on. Nobody would tell me anything! And then they did tell me, and it was already over." Pressing his lips together, Brian wasn't sure there was much else that he could say. Would he really have preferred it if they'd simply let Justin die in his sleep? Of course not. He knew that now. But what was he supposed to say? That his views had been colored by prejudice and misinformation? No, Brian didn't say any of that to the other man. Such revelations could have a tendency to make one look terribly obtuse, and Brian Kinney was _not _obtuse. But muttering his next words, the dark-haired man found that he could at least admit, "I've learned a lot since then, and I want to help you."

Justin looked somewhat placated. Raising an uncertain eyebrow, he asked, "Help me? With what?"

"You might say I'm here for an intervention of sorts. A 'human relations campaign' if you will."

"Hardy har."

"We were together for four years," Brian put forth, the announcement almost making him wince. _Four years, _he thought. _Jesus. _That was something he never thought he'd see. "You can't just… stop, after that long. I get that you don't remember how you felt about me. But due to your previously nauseating compulsion of declaring you love, _I _do remember."

Ignoring the jab, Justin asked blithely, "Fine. How does that help me now? How does it help us?"

Brian had the young artist right up against the wall, their bodies so close he could see the individual lashes framing Justin's challenging gaze. And the self-serving man considered himself to be nearly an expert at reading people. With that skill in mind plus the proximity, it wasn't hard to see that far from his portrayal of indifference, Justin was in fact listening to every word he said. So Brian chose his next words very carefully…

"I miss you and…" he admitted, trying not to grit his teeth at what he knew he had to say next. "And I still want to be with you. I want to go places with you, I want to do things with you, I want to touch you. Hell, I even miss arguing over the TiVo with you. Most of all though, I want to see your face every day." One of Brian's hands came up, thumb stroking along the silent blonde's cheekbone. "Now I'm sorry if any of that makes you uncomfortable, but it's the truth." Brian took a deep breath, thinking that he'd been right: it _was _just like pulling teeth. He'd never enjoyed heart-to-hearts, but he went on anyways. "You may not know it," he spoke quietly, "but you were happy with me. You deserve to get back what we had together. _I _deserve it too. And if you're not too god-damned scared or stubborn to give me an inch, I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that we both get exactly what we deserve." Justin blinked those crazy blue eyes at him, and before Brian leant in to kiss him the way he'd wanted to since he'd walked into the sparse apartment, he finished by proclaiming, "I'm going to make you remember everything."

"Brian I—"

Their lips crashed together, silencing whatever it was that the young vampire had been about to say. Brian had surged in, not bothering to convince or to coax, but rather _taking._ Soon he had the younger man's mouth opening in response, their tongues sharing turns in what had already become a hot, needy kiss. A gasp sounded from somewhere between them, Justin's shock at the invasion choking off into a groan. "No," he hissed, hardly sounding as if he meant it. "Ah, Brian—"There was barely a second before the other man's mouth cut him off again. Brian's hands were felt at his arms, holding him against the wall, his hips doing the same further down. Justin grappled for a hold, fingers tangling in Brian's tie, in his dress shirt. But to the blonde's surprise, it wasn't to push him away.

When they parted it was with just as much force as the kiss itself. Brian found that he had to rip himself away from the other man, face still held so close as their panting breaths mingled between them. A glance up showed that Justin was staring at him. His cerulean eyes looked heavy and lust drunk, all the fear and doubt there having been chased away, at least for the moment. And his lips… Brian licked his own at the sight of _those _lips, red and wet and swollen from his abuse. Those Cupid 's bow lips that he'd dreamt about for years, those lips that he'd taken with his own more times than he could count, the lips that he'd seen smirk and sneer and grin wider than a Cheshire cat. The lips that he'd seen wrapped around his cock so beautifully. They were right there, his for the taking. His for a long time, if he played his cards right.

Kissing the younger man again, he breathed his question, "Now. Are you going to cooperate?"

"Brian, Brian, Brian." Justin sighed, "You hardly give me any choice. Am I supposed to say no now?"

"Of course not. You're supposed to come with me and go along with my plan. I've worked so hard on it after all," Brian simpered, making wide eyes as he said it.

"Okay…" Justin hedged. "What's the plan?"

The shorter blonde still pinned between himself and the wall, Brian only leaned back, grinning. "You'll see. Now go change into some real clothes. It's almost sundown."

Luckily for Justin, it turned out that the Brian Kinney method of memory restoration involved more than just wild kisses against apartment walls.

A pair of hastily-tied sneakers shuffled impatiently against the grit of a stretch of neglected Pittsburgh sidewalk. _What a lovely location to start an advertising business. Clients must marvel when they come in for meetings._ A pair of cold lips curled up in humor at the thought. Brian had always gone against the grain in most things, his business being no different. Leave it to him to turn the fucking bath house into his home away from home. They were standing outside, the facade of _Kinnetic_ and whatever the building on the other side of the alley was, stretched high overhead. Justin looked up into the narrow space and shivered, drawing his coat tighter about himself as Brian locked up where they'd just left. "Christ it's cold," he stuttered, seeing his breath on the air. "I think it might actually snow."

"Wouldn't that be a first. Snow in sunny old Pittsburgh." A set of keys got shoved back into the pocket of Brian's leather jacket, and he took Justin's hand as he set their course for the end of the alley. The corvette was parked on the street, and when they got to it, Brian finagled the younger man until he leant against it. "We'd better get moving," he uttered. "Don't want to get caught in a storm." His eyes were warm, his hands taking the liberty of holding Justin where they stood.

The blonde shifted uncomfortably in response to the attention, scrunching his face. Brian had him pinned against the car just as he'd pinned him by the wall in the apartment. "Get moving?" he whined, "Brian, we've been everywhere! Where the heck else in Pittsburgh is left?"

"Come on Sunshine," Brian provoked, a finger coming up to trace over his jaw, "when have you ever said no to a little adventure?"

"Don't call me that," Justin murmured, allowing the fingers to stay, "You promised."

A frown marred Brian's face, creating a divot between his eyebrows that hadn't been there before. "Right," he said. "Not too much too fast." It was still a struggle to understand how alien his advances were to the younger man. Besides, "_Not too much too fast" _had never really been his style. "I forgot," he excused, adding, "I mean it's not like I don't know what you look like bare-ass naked,"

"Brian…"

"Or that you don't know what I sound like when I come. Or that I can't tell you exactly what your ass looks like when I've got my face—"

"Brian!" Justin half-shouted, half laughed his interruption. God, the man really was incorrigible! He huffed, shoving a playful palm into the other man's chest, "You're not trying very hard."

"Well neither are you. You've got to feel something by now," Brian cajoled. "We've done this flippin' psychotherapy bullshit in every single corner of the earth. …Or at least every corner of the Pitts."

"Tell me about it. And I _am_ trying," Justin excused. Was it really his fault, if he wasn't yet madly in love with the other man again?

Brian had taken him to the places where they'd once spent so much of their time together. It was a method often used in cases of true amnesia, the older man had told him. It was "an offshoot of traditional exposure therapy," wherein victims of memory loss were often able to make connections between places and events. Brian's thinking was that if another person could remember childhood events from being in their childhood bedroom, then why couldn't Justin remember his emotions for the people he'd loved by being in the places where he'd loved them? Justin had to admit, he couldn't think of anything better, so he'd gone along with it. Though he did suspect that Brian had consulted more than a simple textbook to come up with these ideas.

During their tours of PIFA, the Liberty gym, the Liberty diner, Woody's, Mel and Linds' house, and even Kinnetic, Brian had talked Justin through a series of visualization exercises. He took it so seriously, acted so _professionally, _that Justin almost would have made fun of him for it. _Brian the psychologist_. But the blonde could tell how important this was to him, and frankly it was important to Justin too, so he kept any wisecracks about their activities to a minimum. He refrained from all but the most tempting of remarks, with an occasional _"Yes, Dr. Kinney," _being one of the exceptions. Three hours of walking down memory lane had the blonde weary of additional mental exercises though. He didn't feel any more emotions than he had the day before, and now his brain just fucking hurt.

"Look Brian, I appreciate the effort and all, but maybe we should call it a day. We've been _everywhere_. I mean, you said it was a crap shoot to begin with." Justin shrugged, "Maybe my memory will come back on its own. Maybe we should just wait."

"Not yet." To himself, Brian sneered at the idea of simply waiting and seeing if Justin would gain his emotions back by chance. _Waiting, yeah right. _

The older man had waited plenty in the past month. He'd 'waited' while Justin was lying in a hospital bed all tied up to tubes, he'd 'waited' to find out where Justin had been ferreted away after the hospital, he'd even 'waited' for the blonde to come around on his own time. But now that Justin was here with him and Brian had the chance to get him back the way he'd had him before, Brian found that he was absolutely sick and tired of waiting. Behind their bodies, the click of the passenger door handle could be felt as Brian opened it.

"Get in," he said, "There's still one more place we need to go."


	17. Chapter 17

Brian was pouring drinks in the kitchen as Justin sat back and watched from the couch. Most of the lights were turned off, what little illumination there was emanating softly from LEDs hidden among the bedroom partitions.

The loft was dark and quiet as Brian worked and Justin tried to gain his bearings and relax. It shouldn't have been hard to do, here. Here was home; the place that he'd shared his life with this handsome man for the better part of four years. _Four years, Jesus. _Justin knew that if it sounded impressive to him, then it must've been freaking terrifying for the other man to think about. Brian had never done commitments very well. But he'd tried, for him. The thought made the blonde frown ruefully. Maybe he'd have to try harder for Brian, too.

Justin ran his hand over the smooth leather of the sofa, its coolness feeling heavenly against his skin. Expensive Italian sofas certainly had their merits, he mused. _Like being ridiculously comfortable_. But he had to admit that it was more than just the furniture. It was the familiarity of the loft, knowing all of the pivotal moments that had occurred there. It was Brian standing in the kitchen. It was Justin working away at the desktop computer. It was Emmett giving Michael cutlery lessons at the dining table, Debbie dropping off home-cooked carb fests on Sundays, and Gus playing with his toys on the floor on babysitting nights. The loft had been home for so long, that even with the pressure to _just remember one single fucking emotion_ heaped upon him, the young vampire found that he was calmed by being there again.

Funny, because he honestly would have expected to feel frightened, or intimidated. But it wasn't like that. Brian's apartment was serene. It wouldn't push you, harass, or take advantage. It had all of the amenities one could wish for: a luxe living room, inviting shower, expansive bed, even a built-in brunette whose sexual skills were top notch and conversational skills above average. You could relax here until you had to go back out into the world again to face your troubles.

Only thing was: Justin's troubles seemed to be right there, pouring him a drink in the kitchen. _What did Brian really expect to get from this, _he wondered. It was nearly eleven o'clock at night, and no amount of traipsing about Liberty Avenue had made him remember any of his old feelings towards the man. But being back here in this place with him… well it was hard not to hope that he'd recover something. _This_ had apparently been the final place that they'd needed to visit. The final exercise in the Brian Kinney method of memory restoration.

Justin had guessed as much, and in a way he'd even suspected that it was a trap. Brian would pour him a drink, maybe try a few of the now familiar but so far ineffective memory exercises with him, and then he'd pounce. Justin eyed the tall man as he moved fluidly about the kitchen. He looked so sure of himself in everything that he did, even in stupid stuff like bartending. Justin marveled at it. He could recall only a few times when Brian had ever truly lost composure and let something raw show. The younger man now wished that he could be like that: so outwardly confidant and calm.

He felt anything but, sitting there watching Brian glide around his home turf. _God, the man was gorgeous_. That wasn't an emotion so much as indisputable fact. No gay man had to _know_ Brian Kinney to see that he was someone they wanted to be with. To touch. To sleep with. Justin wet his lower lip as he stared pensively at said man. He'd removed his suit jacket and tie, the sleeves of his work shirt now rolled up to reveal strong, lean forearms. His skin was shaded by the dark room, making him look moody. His skin was always that perfect shade between light and slightly tan. He was that way naturally; brown hair and hazel eyes, but the blonde couldn't help but to wonder where the Irish came through in all of that dark coloring. His fingers—hands that Justin had long-espoused as the exemplary model for the entire male gender—worked nimbly to pull corks and twist caps as he constructed something with orange peel and bitters. And above all, he was silent as he worked.

He said nothing and didn't seem to feel the need to glance over at his house guest. _What was he thinking?_ Justin wondered. What was he planning? Would he make some advance? Justin couldn't stop a smirk as he pictured it: Brian trying to get him drunk and take advantage. Typical. _But_… Justin shuffled himself on the couch, thinking privately, _maybe that wouldn't be such a bad way to end the day. _Maybe.

Maybe Brian would pick up his drink and come over there and sit down next to Justin and say something witty, or dark. Maybe he'd neck Justin on the couch until he puddled there and let him suck his cock, or maybe he'd coax him to the bedroom and actually fuck him. Or maybe he'd somehow get them both bent over the dining room table, or undressed and in the shower. Sitting where he was and picturing each of said scenarios, Justin's dick twitched a little, heat pulling in his belly and in his cheeks.

He shifted uncomfortably. Jeeze, was he really still that hot for it? And from the man whom he barely knew the way he once had? Said man was coming over now, bare feet padding across the floor from under his dress pants. The look made Justin's heart race, and it made his heart ache too. He'd lost everything he'd ever felt for him; the fondness, the melting heart, the love. He'd lost it all and it killed him to know it. _God damn it, _his mind raced in frustration,_ How could you be so stupid! Just look at him! You had him. You had this perfect man and he was all yours and nobody else's, so fucking remember how you felt about him. Remember so that you can have him back. _Blinking away forlorn thoughts, Justin nodded questioningly towards the glasses that Brian carried over with him.

"A sidecar," the darker man answered in understanding of the silent question, sitting himself down next to Justin. "And a mojito for the lady."

Justin scowled playfully and shooed the drink away when it was offered. "No thanks. I told you I wanted a virgin," he uttered.

"You looked like you could use something more challenging. For Christ's sake, loosen up." One of Brian's hands came over to pinch at the tension held in his neck. "You're so tight."

Justin snorted at the double entendre. "Yeah well I can't drink alcohol. It'll make me fat in a heartbeat."

"That sucks. Alternatives?"

"V?" Justin wasn't sure if Brian had ever heard of it. "MDMA for vampires, basically. Some people put GHB in diet coke and shit. That imitates alcohol for us pretty well..." he trailed off, reaching to take an ambitious sip of the mojito after all. Fuck calories for one night. He needed a good buzz.

"I'll have to look into that for you," the older man commented lightly, sipping his own drink. _'That imitates alcohol pretty well for us. 'For US',_ Brian thought, rolling Justin's turn of phrase around in his head. Presumably, "us" was Justin and all other vampires. And, also presumably, Brian wasn't one of "us." He was one of "them." The darker man frowned. He didn't think he liked being one of "them." Not when it was in relation to Justin, anyways. He wondered how differently Justin perceived himself now. How much less human did he feel in his own skin every day? For Brian, it didn't seem that traumatic of a change. Sure the kid had little fangs now, and his hair was radically different from one day to the next, but that wasn't so bad. And to be honest, the little fangs were kind of hot. Very Brad Pitt à la _Interview with the Vampire._

"You don't have to do that," Justin was excusing in reference to the drugs. "I can buy my own shit."

"From your roomie?" It should have disturbed Brian, how petulantly his voice came out. But all he could do was scowl. All he got for his troubles was a perceptive eye from the vampire.

"You don't like him."

"No I don't. He seems like a creep." Brian was convinced his scowl deepened at Justin's cackle, "What's so funny?"

"You're Jeeealous," Justin teased, having leant forward into Brian's face. "You. Are."

Steeling his frown, Brian used the leverage presented to him to place a hand at Justin's back and topple him forward. The dumbfounded look on the blonde's face as he wound up in Brian's lap was priceless. "How can I be jealous," Brian purred dangerously, "When he's probably drinking bottled A negative in some shitty studio apartment, and I've got you right here with me?"

Justin was still gaining his bearings from being yanked sideways, when Brian kissed him. Hot breath fanned against his lips for a split second before their mouths were fused. Brian's lips slid across his own, gentle but insistent. It was almost a rubbing of mouths—a tease of a kiss more than anything. Testing the waters, so to speak. The older man's glass could be heard off to the side, clinking as it was set down onto the end table. In place of it, Brian wound their fingers together, and that added connection made Justin want to pull back even less. Somehow, he even convinced himself to shift into a more comfortable angle. Closer.

"Brian," he managed to breath, "What are we doing here?"

"I'm not sure yet," Brian rumbled back to him. "The plan was to make you remember something." His hands smoothed over the rough denim covering Justin's legs, fingers barely brushing the spot where Justin's twitching member rested against his thigh. "But I'm getting distracted."

"Me too." Justin wasn't sure what the admission would cost him, but with the look in Brian's eyes staring him down, he was sure that whatever price he paid, it wouldn't be too unbearable. Brian's eyes promised so much. "I'm not sure…" Justin faltered, offering, "I don't know what I can give you Brian. I'm trying so hard to remember, I swear. But I can't. I still feel so far away from you but I want to be with you. I want…" _God, what did he want? Did he even know? _Justin wanted to go to the bedroom with this man that he couldn't remember, yet couldn't forget. He wanted to feel good, and he wanted to do it with Brian. If it was casual sex, so be it. But he hoped it could be more. He wished it was more.

He said as much out loud, and watched as lust overtook the other man's face. Brian's hands touched more purposefully at the spot between his legs, fingers working him through the pants. "Well I never said I minded if you took advantage of me, did I?" Brian's eyes had flooded down to a serious brown. "So go ahead and take advantage."

Blood rushed south and Justin grew just a little bit harder. Hard enough for Brian to palm him roughly. The blonde man couldn't hold back the groan that came then. "Don't," he murmured. Hadn't they come there to do something productive? Then again, hadn't Justin known this would happen?

"Don't what?" Brian's voice floated between them, his eyes skittering over Justin's countenance, both men looking tenuously at each other. And all the while, Brian's hand still rubbed him presumptively. "Don't what?" he repeated softly.

"Don't stop," Justin said, nearly pleading. And there it was: the moment he gave up.

Those words were him giving up. Giving up or giving in. He wasn't even sure if it mattered anymore, as he wound fingers through the bristle of the hair at the back of Brian's head. Brian's lips were on his neck in an instant, his tongue and teeth clashing in sensation against the skin of his throat. Justin squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to think of a reason for why this should have been a bad idea. He'd stayed away from Brian for a reason, hadn't he?

_Of course_, was the answer. The reason had been that the game—the one that Brian and he had been playing for nearly four years—had been drastically altered and it'd scared the shit out of him. Once he'd realized what he'd lost all those weeks ago, and how different it had made him, Justin had fought for space. He'd fought for distance from the confusion that being with Brian again would bring upon him. As he'd repeated so painstakingly to the other man so many times, it was like being with someone you'd loved in a dream, or cared about in another life. The awkwardness of what he knew he lacked pressing on his consciousness at every turn had hindered him until tonight.

But a very basic need had been building, and now it had him abandoning caution and common sense to the wind in favor of pure and simple pleasure. Justin stifled another groan as Brian continued to touch him so lightly, strong and practiced hands running over forbidden places. Justin hadn't been with anyone in so long, not since the accident, and by now he simply _ached_. Pressing his hips towards Brian's caress, his lips seeking the heady clash of Brian's own, he told him, "Touch me." The words were needlessly vague. Whatever Brian wanted to make of them, he could.

And Brian came forward to kiss him so tenderly that it could have been called out of character. There was a pull there. A feeling of need to be together that was so convincing, it gave both men the impression that they were made to fit this way: bodies entwined, always touching, seeking; always skin against skin. Why hadn't they done this for so long? In his head, Brian was thinking about that last, lazy morning fuck they'd had; while Justin remembered the first. This would be different. It would be a passionate, darkened nighttime encounter, fueled by lust and loss and both of them missing what they couldn't have anymore and weren't sure if they'd get back. But that wouldn't stop them now.

Brian's tongue trailed wet hot from the juncture of Justin's clavicle, all the way up to the base of his jaw, the outrageous familiarity of the action causing the younger man to hiss. _Was this what he'd felt once?_ This confusing and undeniable magnetism between them? He leant forward again, hands gripping severely at Brian's back. His nails slid against the fabric of the older man's dress shirt, unable to find purchase there, and Justin found himself wishing for skin to claw instead. Their hips had aligned deliciously, and the younger of the pair pressed down against his ex-lover to rock their clothed erections together.

Brian moaned as his junk rubbed against the young vampire's. _Damn, that felt nice. _"Nice" didn't even begin to cover what he wanted to feel with the other man that night, but it was a start.Not even midnight and already he had Justin frotting against his lap. This was going well beyond better than he'd hoped. Brian leant upwards to try and kiss the blonde, but was rejected. It seemed that Justin was more intent on grabbing at his back, his hair. Brian allowed the treatment, hands sliding downwards to guide the younger man's hips as they moved. _This _was what he'd wanted. Maybe not as badly as he wanted Justin to really _feel _for him again, but to have the man in his arms again, both of them looking for pleasure in each other's bodies… well that came pretty damned close. The need to strip off hindering clothing was growing though. And from the inpatient motions of his partner, Brian could tell that Justin felt the same.

Above, Justin was boiling with a lust that had grown exponentially but was being given no relief. He didn't want to sit here humping against Brian all night, good as it may have felt. No, what Justin wanted but could barely think clearly enough to communicate, was more involved than that. Somewhere along the line, his jeans had been unzipped, the fly of Brian's perfectly-tailored dress pants undone to match. The black waistband underneath them reading EMPORIO was revealed, and it practically had Justin salivating. _Brian and his fucking designer underpants. Fuck_. He panted at the thought of taking the other man's clothes off, of stripping Brian down to his underwear, pulling them down, and sucking his stiff cock into his mouth, his heavy balls. The thought had Justin using a handful of dark brown hair to yank Brian's head back, arcing his throat beautifully as he forced a wanton, needy kiss upon him.

Brian didn't fight it. Justin's motions were desperate and demanding, and the assured man knew that he could and would give Justin everything that he was asking for in that moment, in that clash of lips. But first he had to get him naked, and then to the bed. And that certainly couldn't be accomplished from the couch. He stilled Justin as best he could, calming the younger man down before uttering, "Stand up Sunshine. Come on, get up." A nudge from his own body had Justin complying, and the second they were vertical, the darker man reached to pull Justin's long sleeved tee over his head.

The full expanse of that pale, toned torso was revealed—just as beautiful as it'd been before he'd changed—and Brian longed to run his hands, his mouth, his body over all of it. Denying himself a moment longer, he trailed gentle fingertips over the swell of Justin's pecs, across his shoulder, and down his bicep and forearm. His eyes lingered on all the muscles that Justin had worked for months to cultivate. "My little ninja," he murmured, not even sure if Justin would recognize the familiar quip. Brian's perusal had stilled in sudden realization against the skin of Justin's arm. More specifically, the unblemished skin of his inner left forearm. "Your tattoo," he astonished. "It's gone." How had he not noticed that before? How had he not seen it at _Babylon_?

_Maybe because you'd been focusing on other things_, Brian thought.

"You hated it anyway." Justin didn't seem concerned enough to continue discussing it, fingers already dancing forward to undo the buttons of Brian's shirt.

Brian helpfully shouldered it to the floor, and allowed the younger man to strip him of his pants as well. Then Brian had to watch as Justin kicked off his shoes, the last move increasing their height difference by about another inch. That was just fine with Brian. Besides, height didn't matter so much once you were horizontal. All the parts lined up just fine in bed, and that was where he soon intended to be. He only stared with heated eyes as Justin awkwardly toed off his socks, then pulled his jeans around his hips.

Their gaze never broke through it all. This slow undressing with baited breath was familiar to each of them. It was reminiscent of how they'd begun their first night together. The thought was ironic, to say the least. Justin shucked his pants, until they were both just two boys in their underwear, wanting to fuck. Brian bit his lip on a groan at how soon they'd be doing just that. He took Justin back into his arms and turned him until they were back to front. He bent his knees and moved his erection against Justin's backside, eliciting an uncontrolled exhale from the blonde. "You want to go to the bed?" Brian asked, fully knowing what the answer would be.

Justin had nodded, the short scrub of his hair prickling against Brian's throat as he did. Thumbs dipping under the band of the younger man's underwear, Brian nipped lightly where neck met shoulder. "Come on," he nearly whispered.

Justin's thoughts raced in a mixture of lust, panic, and relief as he was directed up the steps in front of the other man. Lust that they would fuck, panic that he was making a mistake by allowing it, and relief that at least they were moving somewhere with this tenuous game they'd been playing for weeks. The bed was there, presenting itself in blue sheets and hazy lights, grandiose as always. And just like always, he'd be laid out on it—the sacrificial lamb to the altar of God Kinney. If he'd had the presence of mind to do it, Justin would have laughed at the stupidly poetic notion. Brian had always been his god. He'd worshipped him from the age of seventeen and never looked back.

_Obsession_. That was the one, secret emotion that he'd been able to feel a trace of since the accident. The only one, and the one that he hadn't let Brian know about yet. The omission was his secret to keep until he felt he'd regained something more valuable. Besides, Brian certainly didn't seem to be wanting for connection as he guided the shorter man down onto the bed, shifting their shared world on its axis. Justin thrilled at the weight of the larger man that settled atop him, resting deliciously between his thighs. Brian rocked down against him, kissing him deep and slow. His gruff words came so raw from his lips, that Justin thought it hardly sounded like the Brian he knew at all.

"God, I missed this," Brian breathed against his ear. "You, under me like this." His hips moved again, bringing forth a frustrated cry from the blonde. "Do I still have to convince you that you belong here?"

"_God_ Brian. Ugh, take them off."

The more experienced man didn't require elaboration to know what his partner meant. It was torture to pull away from Justin long enough, but he managed. He divested himself of his last remaining garment, then turned his full attention back to the man beneath him. Justin's underwear was pulled down his thighs, revealing the gorgeous sight of his cock. Brian's pulse throbbed as he covered it with his hand, sliding his palm torturously slow against the shaft. "Fuck," he hissed. _So perfect. _He let his hand pump up and down, fisting him lightly. He could feel the heat coming off of Justin, could feel his body twitch in his hands. It was intoxicating to watch his face as he did this to him. To see the way Justin's brow clenched, eyes slipping shut in concentration, the way his mouth opened in a pleasured '_o' _and how he drew in his lower lip to stop the moans from overtaking him. It was Brian's favorite sight. Absolutely fucking favorite.

Brian had his body pulled up atop him, Justin knew without opening his eyes. Brian's head was somewhere near his mid-chest, eyes probably staring up in that way he liked to do when he was working him in his hand. If he'd have dared to open his eyes in that moment, Justin would have seen that he was right. Brian was a fucking voyeur, in some ways even to his own sex acts. And Justin would have been lying if he said that the hedonism wasn't attractive as hell. He pushed his hips up blindly into the other man's hand, and Brian slid a leg under his thigh, elevating him. Then there was another hand, rolling his balls around, pulling gently. Justin moaned loudly when Brian pressed knuckles to the smooth spot behind. "Oh, please," he uttered, not even sure what specific thing he was asking for. There was practically a list of things that he wanted, by this point.

The reverberations of Brian's sexy-as-hell chuckle could be felt against Justin's chest. "So polite," he murmured, one finger tracing back to stroke over Justin's anus. He circled and he stroked, pressingly lightly but never hard enough to breach him. Justin wasn't a virgin; no one was more familiar with this fact than the man who was working him over so well. But Brian wasn't drawing things out because he thought Justin needed so much careful prep. He was drawing things out because the longer he had Justin there, blissing out on his bed, the longer it was before Justin left. Win-win.

When Brian had gotten the lube, sunk down his body, and really gone to work on torturing the younger man with sucks, kisses and fingers on everything _besides _his cock, Justin had taken himself in hand. Brian knew what he was doing, and allowed it. His own hard on went neglected against the duvet while he finger-fucked Justin, and his only uttered words were the usual of, "Don't come yet." He had to admit, Justin had gotten much better at actually listening to that command over the years. In evidence of that very fact, Brian could feel how the vampire's hand had slowed in its strokes above. He curled his fingers purposefully inside the other man for the obedience, eliciting a sharp cry from Justin,

"I can't—!" he half-shouted, trying to speak again as Brian climbed back up his body to face him, "I _can't_ hold off if you do _that._"

Matched against him, the brunette man came down and kissed him agonizingly slowly, as if in apology for the unfair terms he had set, and Justin accepted it with lips and tongue and arms wrapping over the delicious sinews of the older man's back. Brian knew very well that Justin couldn't hold onto any semblance of self-control with fingers working him like that. It was ridiculous. Justin's pulse pounded in his ears as the blood in his system worked through his veins. _Thank God I ate lunch, _he thought in a rush. None of this would have been happening if he hadn't. His aching length pressing like steel against Brian's stomach was evidence enough of his afternoon meal. _Thank God._

Sweat had barely begun to form along his flushed skin, and Justin found himself dying for what would come next; what he would riot over if didn't soon get. Although Brian didn't seem to be ready to deny him it, if the way he'd leant over to grapple with the bedside drawer was any indication. Justin nearly groaned in relief as the other man knelt back to roll the condom on, before falling forward to cover his body yet again. Justin reveled in the weight, wrapping his legs up and around, lifting hips and offering his ass.

"Come on," he urged quietly, "Come on. Put it in me. Fuck me."

Once Brian had his cock in him it wouldn't be so difficult to step back over the edge on which he was currently teetering. Brian could get him off in seconds with a hand on his length and fingers curling in his ass, but the sting of Brian buried in him would chase an orgasm away for a bit, and a dick didn't assault his prostate in the same torturous fashion. Once Brian was in him, he'd be able to rock himself to oblivion, but it would be a slow and steady climb that they'd do together. He relished the thought of it. "Fuck me," he was saying, apparently over and over again as Brian slicked them both up. The older man grit his teeth as he pushed in, and whatever curse or cry Justin might have uttered at that first invasion, was silenced by Brian's mouth closing over his own.

Brian didn't pause long once he'd connected their bodies. The moment was urgent and he wanted to _feel _Justin. Even more, he wanted Justin to feel him. He thrust his hips in one long, slow movement, and held on to Justin as the younger man gasped. "Hurt?" he asked, but Justin only shook his head,

"No, it's so... Brian, _please._" He didn't have to elaborate. There was only one thing they both wanted, and Brian started moving in the slow pace that would bring them to it. His hips came forward to Justin's body, drawing him close and then away, again and again in careful, perfect thrusts. Between their stomachs, Justin's cock was trapped, the sensation of rubbing skin against it adding to all that he was feeling. "Oh, god yes. Mmm…" Justin would sigh something every once and awhile, and he felt Brian kissing his skin every time that he did. His fingers pulled down the skin of Brian's shoulder blades. He wanted to beg the older man not to stop, but he knew that Brian wouldn't anyways. His heels dug into Brian's ass. He wanted to plead with him to go faster, but he knew that Brian wouldn't do that either. Besides, deep down Justin didn't really want him to. _Slow and steady wins the race, _his fogged mind thought. _And makes the race last longer, too. _"Please," was all he kept saying, not asking for anything specific, just more of the same. Brian fucked him so perfectly against the sheets, never letting him down for a second. Like his soft behavior earlier in the evening, the lovemaking was so tender as to be nearly out of character for Brian. If he hadn't been so damned focused on the pleasure, the young vampire might have marveled at it.

Brian was burning as he fucked the gorgeous blonde beneath him. Every moment, every gasp and groan, every slide of his cock in and out of that tight body, reminded Brian of how much he'd missed this. There was just something about having this kid that never got old. It was a new thing every time. Now he had his body all laid out over top of him, sweaty and hard. Justin's legs tangled around his back like every other time they'd done it in this position, Brian's knees and feet fighting for leverage against the sheets to thrust back into the other man's body.

His mouth didn't seem to want to stop tasting Justin's skin, wherever he could taste it. He sucked the flushed skin at the kid's chest, he kissed his nipples, his throat, his jaw, anywhere. And he was sure the blonde felt his groans of pleasure reverberating wherever his mouth went.

"So good," Justin told him breathlessly, their bodies till rocking.

"I know," Brian gritted back to him. "So fucking good. Want to see you come."

A failure of a chuckle left Justin's throat, "You will. Fuck! _yesss._" His eyes clenched shut again in concentration.

_Such a goddamn good show, _the darker man thought as he watched the pinch of pleasure scar Justin's brow. Brian touched at where Justin's hairline was becoming damp. The little cocksucker always did work hard from the bottom, he'd give him that. Brian could feel the forceful rise of that pert ass coming into every thrust, meeting him in the chase. He'd always liked that about the younger man. So many bottoms didn't work for what they got. Justin sure as hell did. The blonde was so hot beneath him, wild-eyed and blissed out. Brian could tell by the flush of his skin that he was close. Breaking the no-nickname rule, he uttered, "Come on Sunshine, come for me. I want to see it." He wanted to watch him shatter.

Justin's next cry caught in his throat and went halfway unfinished, as the entirety of his body tensed up in orgasm. His hand shot between their bodies to jerk the tip of himself feverishly, his eyes all of a sudden shot open wide. Brian's vision glazed over at the ecstatic relief that swept Justin's face. He could feel the warm surge of come on his belly, making them both sticky and wet. Brian's hips drove harder, getting as close to his release as he could inside of the other man. And when he finally came, groaning his release into the charged air and filling the condom, Justin could be seen gazing up at him from lazy eyes.

Brian collapsed onto the man beneath him, not worried because he knew that Justin liked the weight. Their stomachs were slick against each other with Justin's release, and Brian had to gather himself enough to consciously pull out. He kissed the blonde's frown away in apology for the separation, and discarded the condom. Brian wanted a sticky, sweaty, lust-drunk post coital Justin in his arms, and was offered no fight when he returned to take just that. He wrapped an arm about the blonde's waist, pulling their messy bodies together. Justin looked up at him, the act of what they'd just done apparent on his face, and Brian couldn't bear not to kiss him. He sealed their mouths together and gave Justin the most soul-bearing after sex kiss he'd ever done. "Thank you," he said quietly, sounding completely sated.

"You've never thanked me for sex. Ever." Justin still looked drugged, but now he looked self-satisfied as well.

"I've never had to convince you to have sex with me. Ever," Brian countered tiredly. "But I'm glad that I did."

"Your powers of persuasion are so great," Justin drawled, flopping his head back down into a pillow. "How could I resist?" He wasn't sure what to make of their messy bodies, hugged so intimately together. Brian had never been a big cuddler. He was more of a lay-next-to-you-and-touch-your-skin-a-little type of guy. But soon Brian grew lax against him, and then he drifted off into a light sleep. And it turned out that Justin just couldn't bear to wake him. He let his head loll to a comfortable position and sighed, prepared to lay there, relaxed and still smeared in his own release, until Brian opened his eyes again.

"How could I resist?" he whispered again to himself. The man sprawled out against his side looked so relaxed and gorgeous, that Justin almost felt as if he could put the blame on Brian for this turn of events. Almost.

But deep down he knew that it wouldn't have happened without his tacit approval. Justin hadn't stopped it. He hadn't left. He'd stayed. He'd stayed and allowed Brian to make love to him in his bed just like they used to do. Justin knew that if he'd ever held a hope of severing his connection to Brian Kinney, he'd pretty much just destroyed it. But, he thought, maybe it would turn out for the better this way. He hoped it would.

And for what it was worth, it _was _nice to have a large, warm body wrapped around him again.


	18. Chapter 18

When Brian eventually did move from the bed, it was to get a shower. He didn't announce his plans, simply rising up from the sheets like Poseidon from the sea, and padding loftily across the floor. Justin's iridescent blue eyes tracked his form as he disappeared into the bathroom. Seconds later, the spray of water could be heard meeting tile.

Justin forced himself to lie there a moment longer, amazed at where he'd found himself in so short a time. A quick glance to the clock showed it to be nearly 1:30 in the morning. "So much for self-control," Justin muttered lazily to himself, belatedly adding a sarcastic, "'The Brian Kinney method of memory restoration.' Yeah right. More like the Brian Kinney method of clothing removal." A strained lift of the head showed the trail of clothes that both men had left across the loft, ending with two pairs of black boxer briefs. Justin kicked at where their underwear tangled at the foot of the mattress.

_Okay so you let him fuck you, you liked it, and you'll probably do it again. That's fine. But don't let him keep you here, _Justin's conscience asserted. Such a move would further destroy barriers that he wasn't yet sure he wanted to be broken down. The gaping lack of affection in his heart for the other man was evidence enough of that. Brian was a big boy, Justin told himself. He could handle sleeping alone. Besides, the young artist knew that he had a morning meeting with Van Dorn the next day. That was the practical reason he'd spit out at Brian when he announced that he'd have to go. Hopefully there wouldn't be too much angst on that front.

Justin scrubbed hands over his eyes, still contemplating what it might mean for them now that they'd been together again. In his head he replayed what they'd done. He could still taste the salt of the other man's skin as he's kissed it, bit it. He could still smell the fading trace of his cologne, feel the grasp of his hands, the scrape of his teeth; hear the sounds of his moans. And then there had been…

"_Come on. Put it in me. Fuck me."_

Justin lolled his head back into the pillow with a sigh. Yep, he had said that. He could still feel Brian in his body, thrusting against him as they both worked so hard for it. Well they'd gotten it, and now Brian was in the shower and Justin was lying here all sticky and worried. Kind of typical, when he thought about it.

Now he'd be sore for the next day at least, and he wasn't even sure if the reminder would be a welcome one or not. He'd never have thought the other man would touch him like that after they'd been apart for so long. But Brian had whispered sweet things to him, had been so fucking gentle with him even after Justin had more than made it clear that he wasn't in love with him anymore. Where had the imperviously-shielded God Kinney disappeared to?

"_Well I never said I minded if you took advantage of me…" _

Justin nearly grimaced as he remembered what Brian had said. He _had _taken advantage after all. Because Brian was still head over heels for him, and now he probably thought they were freaking moving back in together. Lying there overthinking things, the young blonde wondered if that really was what the older man took it for. Did Brian now think that they were back together again?

_Jesus, _he mused. He'd never been made to feel like the less emotional of the two of them, freaking wondering what BRIAN was reading into things. That had always been the other man's job. And all this angsting was borderline pushing even Justin's limits of how much lesbionic fretting he could handle. It was almost enough to make him feel sorry for women; was _this _how they went around feeling all the time? Worrying about how they felt, how other people felt, how they all felt in conjunction with one another? Ugh.

Wincing as he sat up, Justin could feel the remains of their sex against his body. "Ugh," he grumbled, almost wishing that he could feel tired like a regular human. Falling asleep in Brian's insanely comfortable bed and dreaming for a while would have been nice. But such wishes were wasted, and the next thing he knew his name was being called over the shower spray from the bathroom,

"Hey Princess, get your ass in here and we can play this great game I know. It's called 'Hide the Soap.'"

Justin smirked despite himself and shook his head, muttering under his breath, "You always win that one." But he went into the shower anyways.

"Are you really just going to stand there and pout like that?"

Brian scowled. "I'm not 'pouting,' I'm thinking."

"About what?"

"_About_: how I know you were here." From the bedroom stairs, a meaningful stare was fixed upon the younger man. "Here in the loft."

Justin was sitting on the edge of Brian's treadmill, tying his sneakers. Freshly-showered, he'd announced that he had every intention of leaving, and the surly brunette hadn't liked that one bit. He'd been standing there, fucking staring and _brooding_, for nearly ten minutes. "What are you talking about?" Justin asked. "How would you _not_ know?"

"You've been in here before now, since the accident," Brian replied, as if revealing a secret. "When I was out."

Left shoe half-way laced, Justin froze. "Yeah?" he finally uttered nonchalantly. "Why do you say that?"

"Did you really think you could take _anything _without me noticing? Let alone that drawing? It was propped in front of the TV."

"It was mine." At Brian's unfavorable glare, Justin added, "Why'd you take it from the studio anyways?"

"You were going to die. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

The blonde's lips parted in disbelief. He scoffed, "Well I suppose an artist's works _do _increase in value postmortem."

"That's not the point. Why were you here sneaking around?" Brian asked. It bothered him that Justin hadn't wanted him to know about the visit to the loft. It'd driven him nuts from the very beginning, when he'd first learned that Justin wasn't desperate to go right back to where they'd left off. Because it was definitely much too strange a thing, for Brian to be the one who was more comfortable with commitment. That'd always been Justin's role. Agitated, Brian pulled a cigarette from his jeans pocket—the only clothing he'd deemed necessary to wear. He lit it, and after a hurried drag added, "You were purposefully avoiding me. But what I don't get is, if you didn't want to see me then why come back to snoop at all?"

Justin couldn't help but to roll his eyes. Brian probably thought the eye roll was at the question, but really it was more at the man's unintentional pose at the bedroom's edge. He looked like sex, selling cigarettes. "I wasn't _avoiding _you," Justin lied. "Just because you weren't here when I came over—"

"—in broad daylight. That must have taken some effort."

Justin had gotten his shoe on, and stood up to his full height. "Look: I took the drawing because it wasn't finished and I like to finish what I start. I avoided you because I can't remember you. Why does this matter so much?"

"Cant?" Brian barely looked at him as he asked.

"Can't what?"

"You said: you can't remember me. Can't or won't?"

Justin's lips parted. "Oh my god. That's not fair. _Can't _Brian. Can't." Raising his arms, he insisted exasperatedly, "I'm sorry if I avoided you, if I'm not recovering fast enough for you, but I _am _trying. I fucking slept with you, for Christ's sake!"

Brian blew out a ring of smoke, forcing himself not to scoff at the younger man's argument. Having sex with Brian Kinney wasn't some capstone experience. Plenty of people who didn't give a fuck about him did that. What had always made Justin special was that he'd wanted more than a fuck. He'd just wanted to BE with him. Now the blonde was standing there tying his sneakers, and it seemed that it was up in the air as to whether he'd be back again. "You really don't feel anything?" he asked as dispassionately as he could, though the thought made his heart ache.

"Not yet."

_Yet. _That one word was the promise Brian wanted to hear. That word meant that Justin intended to keep trying. But the self-serving man couldn't exactly let Justin think that he was all bent out of shape about it. Brian tried hard to never get "bent out of shape." So instead he muttered, "Christ Justin, don't act so put-upon. I didn't expect you to fall in love with me." _But it would be nice_, he thought privately. He was beginning to miss his old partner. The one that'd forced his way into Brian's life and refused to leave.

"I don't know what I expected," Justin said quietly. "I've got to go, but I'll call you."

"Right. Your big meeting with Van Dorn." Brian sucked on his cigarette again. "His son almost killed you."

"Glad to hear it's now '_almost _killed.'" Justin shrugged, "And it's my biggest account. I need the money."

Brian resisted the urge to point out that Justin would never _need _any money, if he was still in their relationship. The darker man had plenty of money, but he knew the young vampire would never accept that now. Little miss independent. "Do what you have to do," was what he said instead. "But take that book on the desk." He watched sullenly as Justin walked over and picked the item up off of the desk, fingers quickly flipping through the pages.

"It's empty."

"Excellent observation," Brian simpered. "Write in it. It's a journal."

"Is that supposed to do something?" Justin asked. "Another step to the Brian Kinney Method?"

"Maybe." The look on Brian's face could nearly be called wistful. "Just take it. Write in it."

Justin sighed. "What am I supposed to write?" It seemed silly, though if Brian had a suggestion, he'd listen.

But Brian just gave one of those mysterious smiles that could mean everything or nothing, depending on what you wanted. He continued to smoke as Justin slid open the door, journal in hand. He felt relief that at least the other man was taking the book with him, not leaving it there. "Write about your memories," he said. "You still have them. Maybe it'll trigger something."

Justin nodded. "Yeah, maybe." Tucking the journal under his arm, he made to leave. But a moment's hesitation in the hallway had him leaning back to offer, "…I want you to know that I'm not sorry I came here. And… I'll um, I'll call."

"You do that Sunshine." Brian said, and despite the awkward mood of their parting, he at least had the consolation that the little amnesic twerp didn't call him out on the stupid no-nickname rule.

"Congratulations Mr. Taylor. Another productive meeting."

Hours-in, Justin was still wearing his tailored suit, donning his biggest bullshit professional smile, and nodding his head pleasantly as he said, "Thank you, Ms. Grimes. I'm glad you liked the new materials."

"Oh, the concepts are inspired. Senator Lacey had better watch his incumbent ass once these mock ups go to print."

The blonde vampire grinned, mindful not to flash too much fang. So far, he'd found that most people tended to act very awkward, or scared—or both—once he did that. And to be frank, he was damned lucky that his most lucrative gig hadn't dropped him the second they'd found out about his new status. Van Dorn was a liberal candidate, but supporting gay rights and publicly okay with vampires were two different things. In response to the woman's comments, Justin was reiterating, "It's a jarring concept, but like I said: the demographics you're courting aren't afraid of a bold statement as long as it rings true, and honest. This will work, trust me."

"My, my, you certainly are confident."

"Sometimes you have to be. Besides," he said, stealing a quote from Brian, "I don't really have bad ideas."

"That remains to be seen," she smirked. "But it's late…"

Justin raised his eyebrows. That was his cue to bow out. "Yeah. I should go I guess. We're the only ones left." Behind their backs, the abandoned conference room loomed, the only traces of the others their water glasses and a few cheap ballpoint pens. Justin and the newly-introduced campaign manager lingered and exchanged final pleasantries at the door to the Van Dorn estate's dining-slash-conference room. Their meeting had dragged on for nearly the whole day. From his stance against the doorframe, Justin shook the woman's proffered hand. "Thanks for all of your help today."

"I should say the same for you. I do hope that the daytime meeting wasn't too much of a hassle for you." The tidy woman gave an apologetic smile, seemingly uncertain of how to address the elephant in the room: Justin hadn't been a vampire when he'd been hired on for the project, but now he was. Not everyone at the meeting had seemed to know what to say—or not say—about it. Thankfully, most had simply refrained from comment at all. "The limo will of course be able to drive you home in another garage to garage transfer," Ms. Grimes was offering again.

"I appreciate it. Let me know what the polls show in the next week or so, and when we'll need to schedule another of these meetings." Justin shook the woman's hand a final time, and watched as she trailed out the front door like all the rest had done. The door closed, eliminating the sight of her, and for the first time the young artist let his posture lag. A long exhale left his lips as he found himself wishing for some food, and for the ability to drop into bed and conk out. "Give up on that one, Taylor," he reprimanded himself aloud for the wish. The chords of his voice echoed slightly against the polished marble of the foyer, bare and hollow as a cave. Once again, he found himself alone in the large house. Glancing back at the abandoned conference space, he was glad that at least this time there wasn't a mess of materials to clean up. The windows at the front of the house showed that the sun had just about set, and Justin knew that if he ventured to the garage from the home's front entrance, he'd be safe enough in the twilight.

Inside the garage was the limo, but the driver was not to be found. Justin peered about impatiently, kind of hoping that he'd be able to get home soon and eat. Despite everyone on the campaign's sensitive reaction to his new "condition," the catered lunch had been lacking in its selection of plasma-based beverages. "Hello?" he called out, hearing only his own voice echoing back to him from concrete walls. "Anybody there?" There was a long pause of silence. Justin sighed.

"…I'm here."

The voice sounded so timidly, that it barely startled the blonde vampire. He turned around, blue eyes widening in surprise at who it was. "Skylar," he uttered, freezing in place. The redhead was sitting atop one of the garage's workbenches, hands clasped near his knees and feet dangling inches from the floor. He looked as healthy as ever, no injuries or trauma seemingly marring his body. Justin blinked, not quite knowing what he'd expected. Despite the crash, the blonde hadn't thought much about the auburn-haired man in past weeks. He'd been too preoccupied with his own troubles. "I didn't expect to see you here," Justin admitted, stepping a little closer. "Are you… how have you been? What happened to you?"

From his spot feet away, Skylar looked a little embarrassed. "I'm fine. They treated me for some cuts and bruises at the hospital. But… fuck Justin: I didn't even have a concussion." The red-head's eyes looked pleadingly at the other man. "But _you…_" He shook his head a little. "Once I got up and figured out what the hell was happening, I tried to get you out of the water faster, I _swear. _But you were caught on the bike."

"Hey," Justin murmured. A step closer, and he was then fighting the urge to place a comforting hand on Skylar's shoulder. The man looked fraught with guilt as he continued to explain,

"You wouldn't move once I had you on the grass, and I tried to do CPR but the paramedics took fucking forever to show up and the bike was trashed, I had no way to move you…" A shuddering breath racked the other man. "And at the hospital they wouldn't tell me anything. Then your boyfriend beat me up and—"

"—Wait, what? Brian beat you up?!" Justin asked, astounded. He'd had no clue the two men had even ran into each other.

"We had an… altercation in the lobby. He wasn't too happy that I drove you into a river. Gave me a black eye. Not that I blame him. God! How could I have been so stupid! I heard you were in a coma, and then they turned you into a, into a, you know…"

"A vampire?"

Skylar winced. "Shit. I am so sorry. I NEVER meant for any of this to happen. I deserved to get beat up by your boyfriend."

Wryly, Justin thought that it certainly _would _be a very Brian thing to do. The older man had never been able to abide people who hurt his lover. It was almost sweet in a way. "You didn't mean to crash," Justin offered, clearly able to see how anxious this was all making the other man. "I don't blame you for it, and even if Brian did, he shouldn't have attacked you."

Some measure of relief flooded through Skylar's eyes at the other man's offer of forgiveness. "I thought you'd want to kill me," he admitted quietly. "After what I did. Isn't it hard? Being a vampire?"

Justin tried not to frown. "Yes, but I'm working through it. Look there's really no point on dwelling on it anymore. There's nothing you need to do…" Justin paused, a thoughtful look coming to his face. Considering, he ventured, "Buuut, if you really feel bad about what happened, there may be something you can do for me."

"What?" Skylar asked eagerly. But then his confidence slipped into worry. "You're not… hungry, are you?"

The blonde merely rolled his eyes at the fearful question. As a matter of fact, he _was _hungry. But that hadn't been what he'd had in mind. "Actually no," he answered, eyes sliding over to the tarp-covered form of a motorbike. "I need a sort of favor."

Getting on the bike hadn't been terrifying at all.

That hadn't been what Justin expected. After all, shouldn't you be afraid of the thing that nearly killed you? He'd been scared shitless of Chris Hobbs after the bashing, but riding on the back of a motorcycle again evoked no such emotions in him. The blonde tried hard not to acerbically tell himself that that was probably because he _had no emotions_ anymore. He knew that such a thing wasn't true. Aiden had forced him to admit that in therapy over and over, to prevent the younger vampire from falling into one of his spirals of anger and self-loathing. Hopping off of the motorbike to face the crumpled guardrail of an innocuous footbridge, Justin still didn't feel scared though. He felt shocked. He'd had Skylar drive them all the way out here, to the middle of bumfuck nowhere Butler County, so that they could retrace the steps of that fateful afternoon.

Justin toed the worn paving of the road where they stood. "This is where it happened?" he asked, even though he could remember clear as day.

"Yeah." Skylar had lingered back towards the bike, almost as if he didn't want to stray very far from it. "Right there."

Justin walked close to the edge of the bridge. _So this was it_, he thought. This was one of those mundane places where your life was changed so suddenly, so drastically as to impart a monumental importance onto the location, despite its seeming insignificance. Just like the parking garage, it was a huge fucking deal. "I can't believe it," Justin murmured, fingers reaching out to run over the twisted edges of the mangled guard rail.

"Believe what?" Skylar asked from behind.

"That this happened to me. To us. We crashed bad, didn't we?" Justin wasn't sure he remembered the actual crash. Just the before and after parts.

"It was fast," Skylar was answering. "Fast and hard. It hurt. You'd never think a six foot drop into four feet of water would hurt so much."

"I'm glad you got away alright," Justin said with a glance back at the red haired man. "That almost makes it better for me. To know that you were okay."

Skylar looked almost embarrassed at his own outcome. "Justin I swear to god I tried to get you out."

"Of course you did." Justin waved him off while staring thoughtfully down at the grey water of the stream. Funny: it had seemed so clear when he was staring back up at the sky from underneath it. It had been terrifying under that cold, oxygen-sucking weight. If he closed his eyes, he could perfectly picture the scene from that day. He'd struggled against the backpack, hooked so viciously to the motorcycle. The feeling of terror had lessened as time had gone on, and in its place had come an astonishment at the knowledge that he _knew _exactly how and when he was going to die. He hadn't been scared to know. Just astonished.

Suddenly, Justin felt an urge to go down to the cold place where his human life had all but ended. It was unreasonable, but he wanted to touch the water, to step on the gravelly bottom. What he would do once he was down there, the vampire had no clue. But for some insane reason, he followed the urge, and sat down to slide himself over the edge of the bridge.

"Hey! What the hell?!" Like his cry at the dog in the road when the motorcycle slid sideways, Skylar's exclamation now was barely regarded. And if it was regarded, it was regarded too late.

Justin didn't land gracefully in the stream, but rather landed with three quarters of his body lying in it, feet scrabbling for purchase. He grimaced at the water that felt just as cold as it had when he'd been human, and allowed his body to sink under altogether. Underneath, there was nothing to breath and nothing to hear. Silent and airless.

And that was the trigger. When he'd been dying in the stream, there had been no air and he couldn't breathe. Justin could remember the burning ache of his lungs as he'd tried so hard to stay conscious—a losing fight. There had been no sound from the world either, only the sound of his own thrashing, the fabric of his backpack snagging. Now, the sensation of that oxygen-less world sparked something in Justin, and he blacked out into the memory of that last morning at the loft: Brian picking at him for his clothes and his bruises, him making fun of Brian for his juicer, Brian teaching him the first few steps to the bachata, and the dance descending into them having lazy morning sex for the millionth time. For the last time.

"_We waltzed at my prom. You twirled me and you dipped me—all while everybody but Daphne looked on horrified, mind you. And I never had to guess what the next step would be, because you just led me into it." _

_Brian had stared at him in awe, hazel eyes warming to amber. He hadn't known Justin could remember so well. And they'd stripped all of their clothes off to go back to the bedroom again. Justin had felt so happy, so safe. He'd always been safe with Brian. Happy, safe, comforted. The feelings came back, rushing around him like a flood of warm water interrupting the cold._

Under the stream's current, Justin returned from his memory and stared through the water with wide eyes. All warmth from the blackout gone. Frantic, he clawed his way through the three feet of stream before he broke with the surface, face dripping and breath smoking against the chilled air. "Fuck!" he exclaimed, body already racked with shivers from his hypothermia-inducing move. But even with Skylar shouting curses from the bridge, and his body wracked with chills, the blonde vampire could only smile. _Happy, safe, comforted_; all of those old feelings felt in relation to Brian.

He'd gotten some more of his memory back.

At his desk, Brian flipped through the packet of documents that Ted had just handed him. "I hate paperwork," he muttered.

"That's why I do all of it for you," Ted replied dryly. "Sign where all the little red X's are and your part's done."

"Remind me _why _I'm giving Stuart what's-his-face a promotion?" Brian asked, starting in on the first of about twenty required signatures.

"He set up the new film division." No recognition from the seated man. "He's the reason you have your own sound stage?" the accountant supplied hopefully at his friend's blank stare. Still, nothing. "Um, I believe you fucked him in the copy room last week?"

Brian's eyes livened, "Oh yeah, him. He's very… talented."

"Luckily in more ways than one," Ted uttered, taking the signed papers back from his boss. "Now that that's squared away, can I ask you about Justin?"

"Absolutely not."

"But you said you've seen him and everybody's wondering—"

"BRRRING, BRRRING!" Brian all but shouted, reaching in faux-astonishment for his desk phone. "Will you look at that?!" he exclaimed with high eyebrows. "My my, being in charge of everything is _such_ hard work. I'm sorry Teddy, but I've just got to take this." The receiver in his hand, the suave man gave his friend a look that said he was clearly excused. And sighing, Ted took the hint and left. Alone again, Brian himself could finally breathe a sigh of relief. That morning had been nonstop from the moment he'd walked through the bathhouse doors. _Who knew yogurt would be such hard work? _Brian thought sardonically. Eight AM to noon had been meetings, conference calls, letters and emails, team briefings, scheduling _everything _under the sun_,_ and more meetings. It was enough to make a man want to nap. Briefly, Brian considered his office couch with a wistful look.

But then his eyes caught sight of his intercom light bleeping away, and he chuckled. "And it keeps on coming," he announced to no one in particular. All he'd wanted to do that morning was drink his latte and think about Justin. He'd just about had it with throwing himself into work. "What next?" he asked Cynthia once he'd picked up the line.

"Personal call for you," she announced, and—perhaps so as not to get her boss's hopes up—she added, "It's not Justin."

"Put her through," Brian drawled. Vacantly, he wondered when his personal calls had become sortable by the labels "Justin" and "Not Justin." The phone clicked over to Brian's main office line, and he addressed the person on the other end without having to ask who it was. Their little chats had practically become a daily ritual, after all. "Mother Taylor," he greeted, his voice saccharine.

"Hello Brian," Jennifer replied almost resignedly. "How is everyone?"

"Same old, same old."

"That's good. I called to tell you that I'm planning to fly back for a long weekend soon."

Brian doodled carelessly on a notepad as he listened. "Why on earth would you want to visit the Pitts?" he asked. "Why now?"

"Because I heard a rumor," she said seriously.

"Tricky little bastards, those are."

"Debbie said you've seen Justin again, since Babylon." There was only silence offered from Brian's end of the line, so Jennifer pressed, "He's my son Brian. I would've expected you to tell me the second he showed up again. You said that you would!"

"It slipped my mind," he replied defensively. "I was kind of involved with him too at one point, so that took precedence."

Her voice softer, Jennifer ventured, "Debbie said that Michael said you had him over to the loft. He said you were able to talk with him. Is he back home now?"

"Home?" Brian shot out. "No, he's not _home._" _What does that even mean? _he wondered acerbically. _That he's reinstated his toothbrush in the bathroom? _Brian thought that he never should have told his best friend about the other night. Michael had blabbed to Debbie, and now Debbie had, by nature, told absolutely everyone else. The news had even spread to Arizona, for Christ's sake. Gritting his teeth in annoyance, the executive asked, _"_While she was 'sharing,' did Debbie by any chance happen to tell you about your son's mental imbalance?" Brian should have chosen his words more tactfully. He could practically hear Jennifer's frown in her words,

"Yes she did. But he's overcome brain injuries before, and if anyone could help him through this it's you. I thought that once you, you know: got with him and um… talked—"

"—you mean fucked," Brian interjected. Ever since the Bashing, Jennifer had had it in her head that Justin would do whatever Brian said, so long as he took his shirt off while he said it. And while the experienced man did like to consider himself persuasive, Jennifer's gay anti-hero imagery had begun to rival Debbie's, and frankly it was a lot to live up to. "I can't make everything better with my cock," he finished boldly.

"Jesus Brian, I didn't say that!"

"I'm just saying. He's been 'home.' He's been with me. He doesn't have all his shit together and he feels like he has to stay away until he does. That's his plan and I haven't been able to talk the little twat out of it yet."

For her part, Jennifer seemed to take the pronouncement in stride. "Do you think he'd call me to talk?"

"I don't think he'd want to," was Brian's honest answer. "And I think it's a waste of money to fly over here at this point. Any other questions?"

"What is he like?" she asked delicately. "Is he alright? Physically I mean."

Brian sighed, not able to stop his gaze from sliding over to the framed picture of Justin on his desktop. The Justin he knew now barely resembled the one in that old photograph, but Brian was hopeful that he'd come back to it. "Physically, he's top notch. Being a vampire cures everything, apparently. But he's got sharp teeth and he smiles a lot less," Brian explained. "He's okay I think. He's alive." _Alive. _Weeks ago he might not have used the word, but time spent with his ex-lover had him rethinking it all. And he knew that it was something that the kid's mother would be pleased to hear. "You almost lost him forever," Brian offered, "Try to be glad that he still exists, and I'll try to get him to come around."

The line crackled with the sound of Jennifer's sigh, and she said, "Oh, you're right. I just hate waiting like this."

"Don't we all," Brian muttered. "I'll keep you informed, but I do have to go," he excused. "Yogurt is calling."

If the comment confused her, the woman didn't say anything. But she did offer a heartfelt, "Thank you Brian, for everything."

Brian nodded, unseen, feeling awkward as hell but also unexpectedly accustomed to this interaction with the mother of his old partner. "You're welcome," he said.

It was obvious to both parties that they'd made their peace with each other. Jennifer knew she was stuck with Brian, just as the dark haired man knew that he was stuck with her. Jennifer kept private the fact that the outrageous man had actually grown on her, if for nothing else than how he'd made her son a happier, stronger person. And of course Brian would sooner make out with his de-facto mother in law, than admit that he actually respected her for her tolerance of him. Jennifer would always have to be slapped in the face with what a debauching nihilist her son had attached himself to, and Brian would always have to be reminded that he had so indentured himself to a lover that he was on speed-dial terms with the man's mother. But what was family without small sacrifices?

Before they hung up, Jennifer somehow managed to utter one final thing, though she sounded downright pained as she said it. "And Brian? As far as getting him back goes… you could show a little affection. He's always been crazy about you and if physical affection—"

Brian cut her off, not yet perfectly comfortable with being outright told to fuck a grown-ass woman's son. "Right. Got it. Lots of fucking. Got to go." He hung up, hoping that maybe Jennifer would wait a good week before trying to call him again. His mind was currently replaying that one awkward memory from after the bashing over in his head, when Jennifer had changed her mind and decided that Justin should come back to live at the loft,

"_Take my son."_

"_You want me to fuck him?"_

"_If that's what it takes."_

Ugch. Brian shivered in his desk chair. He'd acted cavalier about it back then, provoking the woman without recourse. And he was still audacious enough to go around saying "Justin" and "Fuck" in the same sentence to her, but the truth was that Brian would rather all that be kept private probably about as much as she did. Just because Jennifer Taylor knew that her son took it up the ass from him, didn't mean she _ever _needed to see their drawer of sex toys_. Not like that mattered much now anyways_, the taxed executive thought to himself. It was going to take a lot more than sexual healing this time. That much had become abundantly clear since the previous Saturday night. Just exactly what the trick to helping Justin regain his memory was though, he hadn't a clue.

It was nearly seven pm when Justin walked up to the office of his old counselor. He hadn't known if Aiden would be there because he hadn't called. Luckily though, the other vampire could be seen sitting at the room's desk as Justin lingered in the doorway. He was reading something and making notes on a paper. Justin regarded the handsome man with an unexpected air of yearning. Yearning to hang out with him again. To talk about all that was going on. Justin had depended on Aiden for so much in those first few weeks, and the other vampire really had helped him overcome one of the worst times of his life. Hell, he'd _saved _his life. No matter how they'd ended up disagreeing over lifestyle choices, Justin had missed their talks. He hadn't expected that. Aiden?" he said, making his presence known.

Brown eyes looked up in surprise. "Justin," he uttered. Whatever he'd been working on was laid down to the desk's surface, abandoned. Aiden tried to school his expression, but inside he felt very taken aback. Most patients who went AWOL from the home never returned. But there the youngest vampire was, standing just inside the doorway. Aiden shifted his papers tidily to the side of the desk. "This is unexpected. Why are you here?"

The blonde shrugged self-consciously. "I don't know. I wanted to talk I guess. Can we still have an hour together, like before?"

"Yes. I'd be glad to do sessions again if you'd like." Aiden frowned apologetically, "But It'll have to be just twenty minutes for now. I have to see other residents tonight. I didn't know you were coming."

"Yeah. Neither did I really." Justin walked into the room, sitting down in a chair. "But some things have happened since I left, and I missed coming up to this office to talk. It always helped before. I'm sorry I just took off like I did. I knew you wouldn't like it."

"Do you mind if I ask where you went?"

A small smile graced the blonde's lips. "Back to my old studio. It's not great, but we've made some improvements. The_ 'we' _in his statement didn't go unnoticed by the other man.

Aiden considered his next words carefully. He hadn't expected to get the chance to talk with Justin again, having chalked him up as a lost cause. But now that the young man was back and apparently seeking advice, Aiden wanted to be sure he gave the right kind. Slowly, he said, "I think you living on your own again is a wonderful goal. A lot of new vampires have trouble moving out, and you did it fairly quickly. I think that speaks volumes for your own ability to adapt."

"Thanks."

"I think leaving here is generally a good thing for you," Aiden admitted, adding, "but not with Evan. I don't think he can lead you anyplace good."

"I didn't come here to talk about him." Justin waved off the other man's disapproval. He'd known the older vampire would say something about his new roommate, but there were more important matters to discuss. "Look: I've seen some people I know from before," he volunteered, adding, "I've spent some time with Brian again."

From the desk, a knowing shine came to Aiden's eyes. He remembered how keen Brian had been on finding his ex-boyfriend, when they'd last talked at the hospital. Trying to sound nonchalant, Aiden asked, "Oh? And what prompted that?"

"He just showed up at my place one day and demanded that I go with him to do all this psychotherapy stuff with him." Glancing sharply to the therapist, Justin gandered, "_Hey, _you didn't get in contact with him, did you?" It would have made sense, given the sorts of facts Brian had been spouting at him during their tour of Liberty Avenue.

But Aiden denied it straight away, "Of course not. Mr. Kinney and I haven't been in contact since you left the hospital."

"Well, however he got those crazy ideas…" Justin sighed, and stared at the weave of the carpet as he admitted, "I think I want to try and get back with him. I want to figure out how to regain my memories."

"Emotional memories you mean?" Aiden clarified.

"Yeah. I've already had some things come back. I can remember being…" Justin blushed, embarrassed to admit, "_obsessed_ with Brian when we met. And I can feel this sense of comfort, and happiness now—that came about from a "trigger," as Brian called it."

"He was able to prompt you to recover something?" Aiden asked, somewhat impressed. Brian Kinney hadn't exactly struck him as the introspective type.

"No. I did that one on my own." Justin omitted the details of exactly _how _he'd triggered himself back into lukewarm feelings for Brian. He wasn't exactly sure the psychologist would approve of his jumping back into the stream where he'd almost died. Instead he complained, "I still don't love him though. I know he feels like more of a stranger now than he used to. A lot of my memories still feel very robotic." _Robotic _had been the term he'd always used in therapy to describe to Aiden how void his memories felt, how void _he _felt. Forcing himself to meet the attentive gaze of his mentor, the young vampire admitted, "I want to fall back in love with him."

"Well, that's the first step; admitting what you want." Aiden couldn't say he was displeased to hear this from his youngest patient. From what he could tell, Justin was an uncertain new vampire looking for meaning, purpose, definition; all that good cliché stuff. He was, in a sense, an adolescent all over again. And as such Justin was obviously vulnerable and searching for meaningful experiences. His new roommate would certainly provide "experiences" if allowed. The thought had the corners of Aiden's mouth pulling down.

If anything in the human world was going to pull Justin away from Evan and his influence, it was going to be Brian Kinney. He may not have liked the man personally, but Aiden knew when to admit that an asshole had a purpose. Justin Taylor's ex-boyfriend was the best thing for him at this point, and he'd be sure to let the young blonde know that he thought so. "I think you can achieve your goal," Aiden said, voice over-inflated with confidence that he perhaps didn't quite feel. "Have you done the… recovery techniques that you spoke of, with Brian more than once?"

The blonde frowned a little. "No not really."

"Well I'd advise you to do it more. With him or with other people. But if Brian was who you were closest to, then he might be the best person to assist you with that."

"Yeah, I haven't really seen much of anyone else. In fact seeing everyone else feels pretty unnerving right now."

"Why?"

Justin shrugged, "They don't know me anymore. They'll expect me to be the same as I was. To be their 'Sunshine.'"

"A lot of new vampires have trouble relating to their loved ones. It's par for the course. You just have to give them time to accept the new you, and give yourself time too. "

"Sometimes I feel like it would just be better for everyone if I stayed away. Humans don't really like vampires anyways."

Aiden leant forward in his chair, inquiring, "Is that you talking, or Evan?"

The blonde looked upwards defensively. "I have my own opinions you know," he snapped.

"Okay, so explain to me how you wanting to 'fall back in love with Brian' coincides with humans and vampires being incompatible."

"I never said incompatible," Justin excused. "It's just that they have this dislike of us, and if it's not dislike then it's distrust or wariness. Everybody thinks we're scary and weird, dangerous and immoral." The blonde snorted, "Maybe they're right."

"No," Aiden protested quietly, sad to hear that Justin had already grasped the prejudiced view that society held towards people with their condition. "They're not right."

"But we drink blood from people," Justin countered hurriedly. "I mean I know you don't, but a lot of us do. We go around tricking on junkies for their blood, we have these massive violent impulses. Vampires are killing people all the time!"

"Humans are killing people all the time too," Aiden pointed out firmly. "We just make easier scapegoats."

Justin slumped back in his chair, unconvinced. "Yeah well, it's like we're another class of people. And sometimes it just seems easier to let it be that way."

"I'm sure Brian wouldn't be thrilled to hear you talking like this," Aiden suggested, knowing full well that Justin cared about what the human man thought.

Justin only scoffed. Glancing peevishly out the window, he said, "If Brian could have his way, the world would be segregated between gays and straight people. I'm just extending the concept."

Steepling his fingers, Aiden tried to maintain his most helpful and understanding tone as he stated, "Well it seems that you've been worrying a lot about being different from those you once loved."

"You could say that."

"I'm not dismissing your concerns, Justin. I'm just trying to help put them in perspective. If you're really concerned about the realities of how well you do or do not fit in with human life now, maybe the first person you should discuss it with is Brian. He'll need to know what you're really like if the two of you are going to get anywhere, and it's only fair for you to tell him."

Justin raised his brows and twisted his lips in reluctant consideration. "Yeah, maybe," he hedged. "I'm not so sure what his knowledge base about vampires is though." _Whatever Wikipedia has to say on the subject, _he thought disparagingly. And—what he wouldn't mention to Aiden—he also wondered what Evan would have to say about all of this. He'd find out the answer to both questions, soon enough.


	19. Chapter 19

The sign on the door of _Red Cape Comics_ was flipped to pronounce the store "open," but traffic was slow, and that particular afternoon found the four occupants inside hanging out with little concern for would-be customers. Outdated music played from a local station on the radio, while Michael and Brian lingered near the front counter. Hunter sat slumped in the store's lone velour armchair and Gus had his crayons spread out in one corner, scribbling away.

As Michael tabulated his most recent inventory and Brian sucked lazily on a candy that _should _have cost him seventy five cents, Hunter waved one of two comic books from his lap, complaining, "This issue of Rage is lame."

Michael's eyes slid over to where Hunter sat. The teenager was sprawled in the chair, book bag dumped to the side and comic book open in his hands. Another comic by a more mainstream author was resting atop his other leg. "Who asked you?" Michael reprimanded with a scowl. "That's a very important issue. It deals with themes of loss, recovery, uncertainty in the face of adversity…"

"Yeah yeah, where's the sex?"

Raising his eyebrows, Brian popped the sucker out of his mouth to inquire, "No sex? In _Rage_?" He snorted, "I thought that's all Rage and JT did."

"Yeah well, not any more apparently," Hunter commented distractedly. "IceTina escaped from the glacier and came back for revenge. She's frozen JT's memory. He's totally cold to Rage."

Brian raised his eyebrows at Michael, "Gee whiz; sounds like things are frigid between our favorite super-couple. Whatever will they do?" The candy back in his mouth, the dark-haired man spoke around its hindrance, "Where did you come up with such a lame story line? Don't people buy that rag for the blowjobs?"

The shorter man twisted his lips apologetically. "That's the story Justin drew, so I went with it." Hesitating, he asked, "You don't like it?"

"Of course he doesn't; there's NO SEX."

"You get back to your homework young man! And keep your eye on Gus like you're supposed to."

At the reprimand, Hunter's head turned to regard the industrious four year old, who was currently drawing what looked to be a very pink princess. "God help you if I'm the only straight male influence in your life," the teen muttered quietly.

"In answer to your question Mikey," Brian was announcing imperiously, "I like the comic just fine. But when it comes to art imitating life, I think you've got it wrong. JT isn't _that _cold."

"Yeah well how about Justin, huh? He's pretty god damned messed up."

Brian frowned, "You don't even know what you're talking about. He's working on it." Brian glanced conscientiously over to where he knew Hunter was trying to eavesdrop, leaning closer to Michael to add, "_We're _working on it. You haven't even seen him."

"I saw him long enough to storyboard this latest issue! He acted like a complete stranger. Besides, I don't really have to spend a ton of time with him to see things for what they are," Michael was saying. "He's a vampire now."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Michael sighed. He could tell that his words were instantly putting Brian on the defensive, so he tried to hedge by explaining, "Look, I liked Justin a lot. Everybody did."

"'Did?'"

"_Do. _It's just that I'm not so sure it's a good idea for you to be getting back together with him so fast. You should think this through. Do you even know what he's like now? I mean you're the one who told me about that guy he took a chomp out of in Babylon. Justin could be…"

Brian's face had taken on that stony quality that meant he was hearing something which he didn't much care to hear. "Could be what Michael? What exactly are you trying to say here?"

"He's saying: you've got to be careful around vampires."

Both Brian and Michael turned to face the teen who had spoken. In his corner, Gus laughed and mumbled something unintelligible. "Excuse me?" Brian asked.

"He's probably afraid Justin's going to flip out and eat you," the teen supplied, fishing a calculator from his bag. "Like in this issue of _Vampire Assassin_."

"This is real life Hunter. Justin isn't some comic book character."

"Yeah, and he already does 'eat' me. Most nights," Brian said cockily. Looking back to Michael, he defended, "Justin isn't dangerous, if that's what you're worried about. He just can't remember certain things."

"Does he drink blood?"

Again, both adults in the room looked peevishly back to Hunter. "I guess so," Brian said, annoyed. "Not mine."

"Well it says here that vampires have to drink blood every day. Drake does and—"

"—_Drake?_" Brian interrupted.

"Yeah, that's the vampire's name. Anyways he's always fighting against these rages. Like, animalistic impulses to kill and shit. Like in this issue; he accidentally hurts this chick when he tries to—"

"—Really? How interesting." Stalking over, Brian swiped the comic from the teen's hands. "Give me that. I don't know what they're teaching in the eleventh grade these days, but you need to brush up on the concept of 'reputable source material.'" Tossing the rag to Gus's corner of the room, he informed, "_Vampire Assassins _is not exactly an academic reference."

"Be careful how you treat the merchandise!" Michael scolded, mournfully eyeing the now-unsellable comic that Brian's young son was scribbling on. "You know you should listen to him," he told his friend. "Sure that's just a comic but we've all heard stories about how people like that can be."

"'People like that'?"

"I'm sure Justin's still a great guy and all, but you have to be practical here."

"I am being practical," Brian nearly growled, the forgotten candy gripped tightly in his hand. "I'm _practically _fucking him every night until he remembers how he feels. That's all there is to it. Once he remembers, it'll all be the way it used to be."

Michael looked down, abashed by his friend's angry reaction. "I hope he gets his memory back just as much as you do. But even if he does…"

"_When _he does," Brian corrected with sharp eyes.

"Even then, he won't be the same and you know it. Look Bri: sometimes things change and they can't go back to how they were before, no matter how much you want them to. So just be careful. There was a guy who got killed only a week ago by a vampire. Not even that far from here. I'm sure you heard about it."

"Yeah I heard," Brian sniped. "I also read about another half dozen violent crimes in the paper today. ALL committed by humans."

"Fine," Michael sighed. "Be that way."

"I'm not the one who's being a prejudiced son of a bitch!"

"It's not prejudice. It's just the reality of the situation. There's a reason there are laws to protect normal people from them. Just… _please_ tread carefully," Michael implored. "When Captain Astro joined forces with the Cosmic Cadet to save his home planet, he didn't want to accept that the Nephilian race might not assimilate well with everybody else…"

"Oh for god's sake!" Brian pushed himself roughly away from the store's front counter, and from his meddlesome friend. "That was a comic book Michael! I'm not Captain Astro, and Justin is not Cosmic Cadet! He's not another species, for Christ's sake. He's got a disease and he's dealing with it." Glaring at his friend, he hissed, "I'm surprised to hear all of this 'be careful and keep to your own kind' bullshit coming from you of all people. What about Ben?"

For the first time in their conversation, Michael's face darkened. "What about Ben?"

"He's got a disease too. He's HIV positive and that makes him dangerous, yet you live with him and fuck him and aren't worried about it."

"Jesus Brian don't be so crude."

The provocative man waved a careless hand back towards Hunter. "It's nothing the kid hasn't heard before."

"I meant around Gus! And for your information, Ben isn't as dangerous as Justin. _He's _not a vampire."

"Oh Michael." Brian gave one of his perfectly acidic smiles and leant in to hold the smaller man's forehead against his own—a mockery of intimate closeness as he delivered the sting of, "He can still kill you."

"Brian—"

"So until you find a way to erase that gaping hole in your logic, don't talk to me about 'treading carefully.'" Scowling as he moved to scoop Gus up, Brian added, "And don't accept his art for the comic—which he's damned good at and works hard on to make you money—if you're just going to go behind his back and talk about him like a sub-human." He moved for the door, Gus in tow.

The small shop bell jingled on their way out, and Michael was left to gape at the door. "Shit," he cursed. Morosely, he looked down to where Brian had left the half-finished candy to stick against the countertop. "Shit."

"Ben's right you know."

"About what?" Michael asked despondently. Hunter was peeing at him far too knowingly.

"You care too much about him. You don't always have to be the one to tell him this shit. Let somebody else take the heat for once."

The shop owner looked ruefully over at his too-perceptive son. "I like Justin. I do. I'm just trying to make sure Brian's safe," Michael said weakly. "He's never been very responsible."

"Dude, you sound like somebody's mom. Chill out." Tossing another copy of _Vampire Assassin _at his more stressful adoptive parent, Hunter advised, "Read that one. Drake gets back together with the chick in it."

"You know, no matter how much I quote _Captain Astro _and _Rage, _what Brian said is true: they're not real life." Michael looked despondently down to the glossy cover in his hands. On it, a handsome man with a great body, dark clothes, and conspicuous fangs was making out with a buxom blonde woman. There were twin trails of red leaking down her neck as he embraced her, and the issue's title read, "_The Pains of Love." _The shop owner scoffed. He'd never been so annoyed by a comic book in his life. Real vampires were not like _Drake. _Brian couldn't seem to see that, and Michael certainly didn't know how to enlighten him. Maybe it was stupid, but Michael opened to the first page of _Vampire Assassin _anyways, and read.

"Can you hear me?"

Justin was staring with goofy wide eyes, lips parted in curiosity. He held out a hesitant finger, wanting to poke the object of his scrutiny. But his fingers were covered in colorful oils, so he refrained.

"Can you see me?" Justin asked, staring at his friend. Evan was sitting cross-legged in their apartment, and though his eyes were open, the blonde vampire got the distinct feeling that he wasn't quite awake. "Hellloo-o? he called into the other man's face. He'd stopped drawing to come over and investigate his roommate's intense stillness not a moment before. "Did you master waking state? Are you doing it now?" He waved a hand obnoxiously close to the other man's placid features. "Evan? Earth to Evan. Are you awake?"

The wiry man blinked, moving just enough that a strand of black hair fell from behind his ear. "I am now," he said pointedly. "You know, you can be really annoying when you put your mind to it."

Justin moved away, grinning. "Sorry." He took his set of oil pastels back up, continuing in his abandoned task. "So was that it? Did you finally do it?"

Evan was nodding. "Yeah. I think so."

"I'm jealous," the younger vampire murmured, fingers deftly applying pigment to his canvas.

"You'll get it too."

"Sure. Just like all those years that I tried to learn to whistle. Everyone was always telling me how easy it was once you did it; saying that it just had to come to me." Justin rolled his eyes. "I still can't fucking whistle."

From his relaxed position on the floor, Evan snorted. "Well hopefully you get this soon enough."

"What's it like?"

The older vampire looked thoughtful for a moment, finally saying, "Like what I imagine a reeeally good meditative state would feel like."

"Hm."

"It was like I was completely aware of everything going on around me, but this small section of my mind—the part that's really _me_—backed off somewhere further away. Somewhere quiet."

"Sounds nice."

"How long was I doing it for?"

Glancing out the window to view the fading sun, and then to the kitchen wall clock, Justin estimated, "Maybe two hours."

"I feel like I just slept the best nine hours in my life."

From in front of his easel, the blonde groaned. "Don't say that. You're making me really jealous."

Standing, Evan made his way over to the couch. From there he could view what his roommate was working on. The Technicolor face of Brian Kinney stared out at him, and Evan tried to repress a scornful twist of the lips. "Yeah well, you seem to fill up your extra hours with plenty of activities." It was clear that he'd referred to what the artist was currently working on. "Why'd you take it back from his loft anyway? You never said."

Justin shrugged, not able to take his eyes away from where a bit of yellow was being added to the edge of Brian's cheekbone. "That's because I really don't know. I started this drawing months ago and I've always just had a weird feeling about it; like I'm afraid it won't amount to what it really should be. I remember that before the accident I couldn't add to it for the longest time. But now I can." He shook his head in confusion. "Funny how all it took was me falling out of love with him, to be able to draw his face again."

"So you're saying that you're better at your art now that he's gone?" Evan asked almost hopefully. Anything that he could do to keep Justin there with him, and away from those people from his old life, was worthwhile. But Justin was avidly negating his statement, saying,

"Of course not. Brian always inspired me in my art. He has great… well, great _energy _about him, to use a very cliché term. It's just this one piece." Silently, he smudged a bit of pastel to give shading to said man's irises. "It's like… a love letter in portrait form. I was afraid to get it wrong before." He smirked, unseen, "But that fear's gone, since I don't actually love him anymore."

"Maybe you weren't meant to be with him?" Evan suggested, trying to sound casual about it. "Did you think of that?"

"Of course I've thought about it. With all that's happened? How could I not?" Justin finally turned from his project to regard the other vampire. "But I've gotten some of my emotional memories back with him. That's more than I ever thought possible. What if I can get back the rest?"

Evan shrugged, fiddling his hands in the nervous tick that was natural to him. "I mean: maybe you could but it wouldn't really be the same. Everyone's going to be different around you now. You'll be different around them. You're not human anymore."

A disappointed sheen clouded over the blue sky of Justin's eyes. He'd been afraid Evan would say that. "You think so?" he asked, unsure. He knew he was different, that much was true. It was why he preferred the company of Aiden and Evan so much. They shared in his experiences, in his newly-defined reality. Would all of his differences now really make his old life so unattainable? He hadn't thought so, but Evan was the older, more experienced vampire, and now with what he was saying, Justin was beginning to doubt himself. "Did you um," Justin swallowed, drawing temporarily forgotten. "Did you ever get back in contact with your family, after you were changed?"

Evan stilled where he sat, as he realized that this was a chance for him to sway his friend towards his way of thinking. Taking the opportunity, he admitted, "Yes. I wrote them first. I told them I'd kicked all of my habits and was sober, and even though I made no mention of the being-miraculously-turned-straight bullshit that they would've liked to hear, for the most part they seemed happy."

"So?" Justin prompted, "What happened?"

"I went to see them," Evan continued plainly, eyes filled with pain. "Everyone was upset about it, in their own way. My dad wouldn't look at me. My mother acted like I'd died, like I wasn't even her son." A humorless chuckle escaped the wiry man's throat, "My sister didn't want her kids near me. She actually rushed them out of the room."

"Jeeze."

"Don't expect too much from your old friends," Evan advised quietly. "People can't always help the way they feel about us. Just like we can't help the fact that we're different."

"We're not that different," Justin mumbled.

"Have you seen the news lately?" Evan countered. "The way we get treated is bullshit. We're just the scapegoat that humans use because they're too fucking scared to deal with their own problems. Why should we try to live up to the standards they set for us, when they treat us like criminals anyway? Do you really think that people are any nicer to Aiden because he goes around wearing sweater vests and speaking all academically, drinking his shit from bottles?" The dark man snorted in disgust. "He plays human for them, but it doesn't make any difference."

Justin could only shrug at his friend's assertions. He didn't want to believe that he was so very different from other people. But he also knew that it was more than sun allergies and blood drinking that made him different. It was the way he saw color, heard sounds; the way that he never slept, never ate, never aged. It was the way he felt thrills of sexual desire and violence all at the same time, and how he sometimes just stared at people's carotids, daydreaming about digging out their pulse. _That _wasn't normal, and Justin was secretly terrified of the day that Brian—or someone else he'd once loved—would find out his secret.

His secret being that he was dangerously weird.

And it was almost as if Evan read his thoughts, because what he said next really hit home. "I'll bet you'd try and play human for _him. _But look at it this way: what would Brian do," he asked intrusively, "if he found out that you think about killing him when he fucks you?"

Justin and Evan stood inside the stark gymnasium of the 42nd street Krav Maga Studio. Sparring was going on, and they had yet to be noticed. Arms folded as he watched Kai practicing with his more advanced students, Justin addressed the man standing beside him. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"…That I think about killing Brian we he… when we're together."

Evan just huffed and shook his head, as if Justin was the most naive person in the world. "You have a lot to learn Justin."

The blonde frowned. "I wish you'd explain it better than that."

"What do you want me to say? We're different dude. Some people like to be romantic and say that we're 'predators', but maybe we're actually a little bit psychotic. Either way, fucking and killing are just two sides to the same coin. It's all erotic as hell. Just because humans can't see that doesn't make it less true."

Chancing a wary glance to his friend, Justin ventured, "Have you ever wanted to kill anybody?"

"You mean besides my parents?" He snorted. "Of course. I even came close once."

"What?!"

"This junkie I was feeding off of once. She was messed up, and her version of dirty talk was her begging me to rip her throat out."

"Holy shit. …You didn't, right?"

Evan maintained his steady gaze on the room and its occupants ahead. "No. But someone else obliged."

Justin cursed again. He didn't know how he felt about hearing that story. Surely he himself would know better than to play such dangerous games. Still, there was a comfort in knowing that he wasn't the only one who felt these strange things, who thought these strange thoughts. He still couldn't fathom explaining his violent impulses to Brian though. Evan's question from earlier in the studio had really thrown the young vampire for a loop. Could Brian really accept him if he told him everything? Or did his ex-partner think that he could maintain Justin like he'd been before; his little stay at home vampire with a Wii system and pre-packaged meals? Shaking the thought from his head, Justin focused on the people that were fighting in the room ahead of them.

They'd come back to the studio at Evan's request. The darker vampire had told him that he could easily demonstrate how poorly Justin fit in with his old life now. All he'd need was a time and place, with someone—anyone—from Justin's past. And so here they were in the old gym where the blonde had cultivated his self-defense skills for so many months. Justin was nervous to be there, while Evan was simply eager to make his point.

Up ahead, a stressed shout called out one of the advanced students' surrender. The sound waves of the shout reverberated around the room, and the toned form of an Asian instructor could be seen letting up on him. Kai pulled back, turning to face in the direction where Justin and Evan stood. That was when the two interloping vampires were finally noticed. Justin watched in confusion as his old teacher's face morphed into an indescribable expression. He almost looked horrified, and Justin half-wondered if the man had somehow already heard about him being a vampire. "Maybe coming here was a bad idea," the blonde muttered to Evan as the sick-looking instructor walked their way.

"Justin," he uttered, once he'd approached them.

"Kai," Justin greeted. "I uh, I'm sorry I haven't been around."

"I thought you were dead," the other man shot out, sounding just as shocked as he looked. "Your boyfriend said you died."

"He said that? When?" Looking over to Evan, Justin furrowed his brow. "Why would he say that?"

"Sounds like he considers you to be dead," Evan remarked tersely. "He certainly felt free to lead your friends to think so. Real thoughtful of him."

"Justin, what happened?" Kai was asking. "Where have you been?" Slowly, almost as if on cue, his eyes trailed down the length of the young man's left arm. "What happened to your tattoo?"

Justin faltered, realizing that this would be the very first time that he had to announce to a friend that he was a vampire. The prospect felt much more intimidating than he would have thought. "I um. I was in an accident about two months ago," he said lightly, the words feeling foreign on his lips. "To save my life, the doctors had to turn me into a… vampire. That's why I've been away for so long."

For a second, Kai just stood there looking like he hadn't quite heard the other man, but then his features slowly morphed into a look of awkward understanding. "My god," he muttered. "That's crazy. Really?"

"No, he's joking," Evan said humorlessly.

"Shit. I can't believe this." Kai's eyes tracked up and down the blonde's form in newfound perspective. "Well are you alright? Did you want to um, start classes again?"

The response wasn't what Justin had expected. In truth, he'd kind of thought Kai would hug him, say how glad he was that the young artist was alive, and then politely ask him to leave the building. But instead the coolly-styled instructor stood there, waiting for an answer to his query. "Um," Justin considered, "Well I'd like to but I'm not sure if that would be safe. You see I'm a lot stronger now and I think I might…"

"Are you faster?"

"Huh?"

Kai repeated his question, "You said that you're stronger. Are you faster?"

"Well… no."

"Then it shouldn't be a problem. You can fight me directly for practice, if you're concerned about hurting the other students. You know how the game goes Justin; strength isn't the most important weapon in a fighter's arsenal."

Canting his head in understanding, Justin ceded, "It's speed."

Kai grinned, and to the side, Evan grinned too. "You got it," he said. "Now put your shit down and get on the mats. We're going to see what you still remember."

Justin smirked at the directive, his own personality, mixed with the more animalistic aspects of his new self, thrilling at the challenge. He slung his messenger bag to the side and told Evan that he'd be back in a few, and walked back out into the practice ring that he hadn't even realized he'd missed so much. Feelings of excitement swept through him. Feelings of power and of control, and he used those returned emotion to focus his energy towards the man with whom he would soon be trying to take down. "Bring it on," he said to Kai, a grin on his face.

The two men went at each other, and though neither of them saw it, the fact was that Evan stood to the side of the arena, looking on with a satisfied smirk of his own. He knew exactly what he was doing, because he knew exactly what was going to happen on that practice mat in the next few minutes. "Go on Sunshine," Evan muttered, daring to use the name that he knew implied the highest level of affection towards the other man. "Go on and fight him. Try to play human and see what happens." He watched as they sparred, and he failed to wince when IT finally did happen, because he was only happy that it did. "Told you so," the wiry man said to no one in particular as he continued to watch the scene unfold. Very soon he'd have Justin seeing the truth of the matter; that he simply couldn't go back to living his old life as he had before.

And that in actuality: there was no good company for him other than Evan.


	20. Chapter 20

In the shower of Brian's loft, Justin was using most of what little self-control he still possessed to try not to moan out too loudly. But given their current situation, it was proving to be difficult. …And quite slippery as well. You see: Brian had him pinned against one glass wall of the shower, cock up his ass, steaming water beating down on their tangled bodies as they fucked.

As he was slammed into from behind, a near-shout of a cry left the younger man's throat. "Ah! Brian…"One of the hands on his hips shot up to wrap over his mouth, and Justin moaned again.

"Would. you. shut. up?!" Brian panted roughly into his ear with each thrust, their bodies pressed tightly to the unyielding shower wall. "The bathroom door doesn't lock. If you wake him up, we're—"

"—Screwed?" Justin managed between the fingers at his lips. "Not exactly the illicit sexcapade I'd imagined." Justin's cheeky reply was somewhat muffled by the hand still covering his mouth, but Brian heard him well enough to give him a barrage of punishing thrusts for his quip. "Uh, Brian please," Justin begged, trying to keep his voice down as pleasure surged through his body. His fingers scrabbled uselessly against the glass. "Just… fuck!" One of his hands struggled forward to wrap around his own aching length, pulling. "Yes!"

"Shut. Up." Brian yanked on his hair—which was once again past the kid's ears—and used the leverage to pull Justin's head back for a brutal kiss. Their mouths melded, lips wet from the humidity. A thrill shot through Brian as he was gifted with the pleasured reverberations of Justin's moans—now captured into his own mouth. He swiped his tongue out brazenly, taking the kiss from him as fiercely as he took his body. Justin groaned and kissed back, and a moment later the rhythm of Brian's hips stuttered when a sharp sting caught between their joined mouths. "Mmph!" Brian grunted into the kiss.

Justin drew back, worried. "What?" his eyes strained over his shoulder, searching the other man's face. "Oh, Brian… shit." There was blood coming from between his lips. "You're hurt."

Brian tongued slowly at the spot on his mouth where Justin's fang had caught. "Wow," he murmured, "You're more dangerous than I thought." He failed to notice the blonde's frown at his comment, too busy tasting the copper of his own blood. "Come here," he growled, pulling Justin's mouth close again to continue their kiss. He invaded the vampire's mouth yet again, the metallic hint of his own blood passed between them. The painful sting of it, combined with the heavy ache that was building in his balls was an intoxicating mix. "Fuck," he cursed at the edge of Justin's mouth. His hips increased their pace. He was going to come so hard.

The bloody kiss over, Justin had to force his head away from Brian before he did something bad. He pressed his cheek against the glass again, gasping the humid air into his lungs as Brian continued to move them. The taste of Brian's blood still lingered on his tongue, and it was all he could do not the flip around and try to get more of it. "God," he hissed, as Brian moved within him and Justin imagined of doing just that and more. His pulse was pounding in his ears, his spine tingling he was so close. And he couldn't ignore the thoughts that flitted through his head. Violent and erotic imagery flashed beneath his eyelids. Imagery of skin that he could break, blood that he could free and watch well up like a jewel before he made it rush out in warm waves; imagery of how Brian would go slack beneath him, how his panicked gasps would sound so similar to ones of pleasure—ones which could be heard from behind even now. One of the blonde's hands scrambled for purchase on the shower wall as he stood there, getting fucked and getting off on these dirty thoughts. It got him hotter, harder, and all of a sudden he was so close he couldn't even manage the control to tell the man behind him. Not that Brian needed to know anyhow.

Justin gasped and came against the glass wall, somehow managing not to moan any louder than the shower spray. As usual, Brian seemed to enjoy watching him fall apart; his own orgasm only increasing the fervor with which the other man attacked him. Brian smeared his bloody mouth against the skin of Justin's neck, pulling their bodies impossibly closer together as he sought out his own release. He cursed something desperate as Justin lolled against him, and a few minutes later he found completion as well. The water from the shower continued to drench them even after Brian had pulled out and turned the younger man to face him. It plastered their hair against their foreheads, slicking their skin and washing away every trace of their coupling. Both men still panted from their highs, hands finding each other's bodies to steady themselves after such a heady rush.

"Top five," Brian managed to utter, as he was regaining his breath.

Justin scowled, "You're constantly rewriting the list. There can't be a rational way to rank our sex anymore."

"I can remember better than you."

"I can remember just fine," Justin countered, eyes glued to where Brian still bled. He'd nicked the other man somewhere inside his lower lip and it was deep enough to keep a small bead welling at the seam of his mouth. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to lean in and lick at the red spot, get at it before the water washed it all away. But he knew that that wouldn't be a good idea. For all he knew he might get carried away, and then Brian would probably end up dead on the shower floor, and then there would be the complication of a witness to the crime being in just the other room… Swallowing, Justin stuttered, "Um, we'd better get dressed." He hurriedly yanked open the shower door to towel off, before Brian could grab him or something to that effect. When they'd both donned enough clothing to hide the important parts, Justin cautiously slid open the bathroom's thin door to peek out into the loft.

"Well?" Brian asked conspiratorially from behind. "What's he doing?" Brian had slipped on his black kimono, but all Justin wore was a pair of old sweat pants. Brian could tell by the way that all of the muscles in the younger man's naked back tensed up, that they had not been quiet enough during their romp in the shower.

"Shit. He's up."

"Doing what?"

"I don't _know_, I can't see. He's just not in the bed anymore!" Justin hissed. Outside the loft's window, the world looked like pure, blinding white. "Fucking snowstorms," he muttered. That was the whole reason they were stuck with an overnight guest in the first place. "You'd think people in Pittsburgh would be more adept at navigating the weather."

Pushing in annoyance at the other man's back, Brian said, "Move." They emerged out into the bedroom, and Brian winced when he saw their guest from the night before, wide awake and seated on one of the kitchen barstools. Wide, perceptive eyes stared back at them as they emerged, flushed and half-dressed. Suddenly, his brave impulse to emerge from the bathroom had fled. He sucked his lips in impishly.

"Heeey," Justin was saying.

"Hey," Brian parroted through the bedroom's partitions, giving an unsure wave. "I didn't expect you to be up yet. Since _somebody _kept you up so late last night." His eyes slid accusingly towards the shorter man's half-naked form.

"You were loud in the bathroom," was their guest's succinct explanation.

Justin grimaced at that, stepping cautiously down into the main living space. "Are you hungry? I'll uh… I'll make some eggs." He hurried to busy himself with that task, hoping that Brian could be the one to deal with the situation. "Scrambled sound good?"

"What were you guys doing?"

Justin's eyebrows reached towards his hairline as he opened the fridge in search of some eggs. "Oh boy," he muttered.

Brian, still rubbing at his wet hair, was approaching the kitchen at a far more cautious pace than his partner had done. Addressing the lone figure at the counter, he asked, "What… do you think we were doing?" He stood there, wet and disheveled in his robe, while he waited for a reply.

Their guest grinned. "Exercising?" he asked brightly, lisp apparent in his voice.

Justin could be heard snorting in laughter, while Brian could only smile in relief. "YES! Exactly right. You're so smart."

"Brian!"

The dark-haired man waved off Justin's reprimand, asking him, "What? Don't you feel like you got some good cardio in?" Sauntering over to the bar stool, Brian patted their guest on the head—miniscule as it was. "You're very clever Sonnyboy. We were exercising. And if Mommy Melanie asks, that's exactly what you can tell her."

Gus giggled. "Kay."

Rolling his eyes, Justin scanned the refrigerator's contents for what he needed. "Your son has a big mouth. Melanie's going to find out what 'exercising' in the bathroom is real fast. Then she'll never let him come over here again." Justin frowned as he continued to search for the food he needed. "Jesus where the heck are your egg—" He cut off, having found the eggs. They were situated right behind a six pack of B positive. "Brian," he ventured slowly, "why do you have blood in the fridge?"

"Hm?"

A glance back from Justin showed that the older man had been preoccupied by his son for a moment, sliding several inverted shot glasses around the counter with him like a game of toy cars. It was perversely paternal, and as cute as that may have been, Justin repeated, "Why did you buy this?" His hand held up one of the bottles.

"It's food for you. I picked some up while I was out last night."

Justin pursed his lips. "It's not _Vitamin Water_ Brian. You can't exactly get it at the grocery store." Befuddled, Justin wondered how far the obstinate man had travelled in the snow storm to purchase the stuff. "And it's really expensive," he added scornfully.

"And I decided to buy some for you. So drink it."

"I _told_ you. I hate this stuff." Twisting off the bottle's cap, which was embossed with a biohazard warning symbol, he sniffed it and wrinkled his nose. "Ugh. You shouldn't have wasted your money."

At the counter, Brian wasn't bothering with the shot glasses anymore. "I prefer not to think of it as a waste, since it's not like I'm going to encourage the alternative; which you need to stop doing by the way."

Justin cracked the eggs into a bowl rather harshly. Tossing the shells in the sink, he began to whisk. "Let's not talk about this while Gus is here."

"You know everybody uses you as an excuse for all the stuff we _can't _do, _can't _talk about," Brian announced to his son. "Don't you wish they'd stop?"

Gus only grinned dopily up at him.

"Stop it Brian. Mel will be here soon to get him if you want to hash this out later."

"I want to hash it out now!" Brian growled. "You can't. keep. eating. people." The dark-haired man stared resolutely as Justin grabbed up a skillet and spatula, cooking their breakfast.

"It's fine," he argued. "Lots of vampires do it."

"'Lots'," Brian echoed, "You mean Evan. He's the reason you're being so stubborn about this." Brian scowled. Justin had been living with the other vampire for going on a month now, and just as he'd feared, the wiry fucker was influencing everything that Justin did. They went out together, did drugs together, _fed_ together. And slowly but surely, Brian could tell that Evan was convincing Justin that he could be part of a different world—a _better_ world_—_than he had before.A world without Brian. "Bullshit," the despondent man muttered aloud.

"Watch your language around Gus," Justin scolded from the stove. Portioning the eggs out onto two plates, Justin pushed the food to the counter. "Eat up, and stop buying me bottled blood and gaming systems."

Brian couldn't believe his ears. Never had he ever thought he'd see the day where Justin would reprimand _him _for any sort of domestic behavior. "I thought you liked the Wii!"

"You don't have to buy stuff to keep me from chewing on the furniture while you're gone. I'm not your pet."

Brian huffed, taken aback by the nerve of the younger man. "Well," he sniped cruelly, "this is the first time you haven't wanted to be." He pointedly ignored Justin's glare, adding, "I bought those things for you. To make you happy here."

"Well I don't live here anymore!" Justin all but yelled. At Gus's wide-eyed stare he lowered his voice, speaking pointedly, "I visit. That's all. We're still working on 'us,' but that doesn't mean I'm going to start playing human for you."

"Who said anything about 'playing human'?"

Justin's lips parted, ready to say something else, but just at that moment a knock could be heard sounding against riveted metal. Instead of what he'd planned to argue, Justin simply stated, "That must be Mel." Abandoning Brian's gaze just as surely as their argument, he padded over to slide the door open. Instead of the short crop of Melanie's brown hair, he was greeted by a sleek blonde chignon.

"Justin!" An overflowing bundle of puffy fabric was immediately pressed into Justin's unsuspecting arms, blocking his brief view of Lindsay as she entered the loft. "What a surprise!" Her nervous laugh sounded from the other side of the bundle. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Taking a moment to set down what he quickly-ascertained to be a bunch of children's winter clothes, Justin waved at the back of Lindsay's head, where she could already be seen between Brian and Gus, inspecting the quality of her son's breakfast. "Yeah," he said, "I stayed over. Just think of me as the _actual_ babysitter. I did most of the legwork."

"You cooked, I take it," she stated more than asked, forking at some of Gus's eggs. Her eyes swung back to the young man, somewhat tense looking. "We all know that Brian can't cook to save his life."

"'_Can't_' and 'Don't see the point in trying' are two different things," Brian drawled from the bar.

Lindsay only kissed him on the cheek, wincing at his morning scruff. "Didn't you say you went out for groceries last night?" She laughed nervously. "I thought you and Gus went on some insane adventure through the snow for two hours."

"Oh give me some credit: I'm not stupid enough to take him out in a blizzard. I left him here with my favorite vampire," Brian simpered. His explanation however, only seemed to further antagonize the woman.

"Well… I guess I didn't realize that Justin had to watch him. All by himself." Lindsay bit her lip fretfully and glanced over to the blonde. "I do hope he wasn't too much trouble for you," she excused, bustling over to the living room to begin gathering up what errant toys were lying there. "You really shouldn't have had to deal with him all by yourself."

"Are you referring to father or son?" Justin joked, eliciting an eyebrow raise from Brian, and an unusual lack of response from Lindsay as she rushed about, apparently in a hurry to pack Gus and his accessories up. She seemed unduly stressed.

"—He knows he's supposed to pick up his things though. You shouldhave made him."

"Justin leaves his toys lying around too. I'm used to it." Brown and blue eyes met across the island countertop in a grumpy contest of wills. Brian crossed his arms at Justin, while Justin stuck his tongue out briefly. Juvenile jokes were not going to settle anything between them today. _Later, _Justin mouthed obviously to the older man, meaningful eyes sliding over to where Lindsay was making quick work of stuffing her son into about six layers of winter wear.

"You know… it's probably only about twenty degrees out there," Brian said. "You really think he needs to go out like that?"

Frustrated, Lindsay sat back from the now-puffy preschooler. "Like _what_?"

"Like the god damned Michelin man. I think he'd be fine with a coat and some gloves."

"Well I think that he needs a few more layers. I think he'll be cold in just a coat. And you know what Brian?" She faltered, seemingly aware of how terse her voice was sounding. "I think that… well I think that maybe I have a little bit better of an idea than you do as to what's good for our son." At that, her eyes flitted meaningfully over to where Justin stood in the kitchen. It was immensely brief, but neither man missed it. "Justin, I thought you were living in your old studio."

"I am."

"Well that's… that's good sweetie. I hope you're sorting through everything all right. You know… incident-free."

Justin furrowed his brow, but said nothing. _Incident-free? What the heck was that supposed to mean? What sorts of 'incidents' did she expect him to have?_ On the other side of the kitchen island, Brian wasn't looking as lackadaisical as when his friend had first walked in. "Is there something you want to say to me Lindsay?" he asked, fingers fiddling with one of the upturned shot glasses. He wasn't making eye contact with anyone. "Or to Justin maybe?"

"No. Why?" Taking a hold of Gus's hand to lead him towards the door, she stated simply, "I just think that you should let me know when other people are going to stop by if Gus is here with you. I think that's only right. You're the one who's supposed to be watching him after all. That's why Mel and I bring him here. You're his father. You're the one we trust to watch him." Sparing Justin a look, she inserted, "No offense Justin."

The blonde parted his lips to reply with something along the lines of: "_none taken_," but quickly closed them again, because he wasn't entirely sure that there _was _no offense. Lindsay had always liked him. She'd never had a problem with him watching Gus, before. When had he been demoted to the paltry rank of '_other people'_? "Yeah," he mumbled. "I guess."

"Well we really do have to go. My ten thirty showing failed to cancel so I've got to have Gus at daycare by nine."

"Bye daddy!" Gus interrupted, waving as best he could in all of his layers. "Bye Jusin!"

"Come on sweetie. We have to hurry," Lindsay trilled. She hurried them both out the door, leaving the two men to face each other in the stillness of their own company.

"…Well," Justin uttered, decidedly leaning over the island to clean up what had been a very brief breakfast indeed. "She didn't seem too happy about me being here."

"She's just being her usual stressed-out self. Dykes can be that way." Scratching the corner of his eye, Brian amended, "Well, actually I think all women are that way. Too. many. emotions."

"I'd take a few off their hands," Justin commented lowly. "But let's just state the obvious: she wasn't happy about me being alone with Gus." Brian looked as if he could hardly bare to meet his eyes at that, and the vampire pressed, "She practically said it herself!"

"She's hardly seen you since the accident. You know the latest vampire-related murder happened not that far from here. Shit like that's all over the news. They're bound to act weird."

Justin scoffed in agreement of the assessment. Prejudiced people were all over the place. Evan had told him that much in private, and Justin had been out and about in past weeks to find out for himself how true that was. But he'd never expected his friends to act like so differently. Certainly not Lindsay. Scraping Gus's half-eaten breakfast into the trash, he said, "Weird is one thing, but she just couldn't wait to get him out the door. Brian, she's never acted so coldly to me before. Hell, she practically likes me more than you!"

The older man _did _raise his eyes to meet the fuming vampire at that. "You must be thinking of Mel. Lindsay's _my _lesbian. She likes me best." He sat back with a satisfied look, as if that settled the matter.

"Whatever. I knew this was a bad idea." Justin tossed the used serving ware into the sink, not missing the other man's wince as it produced a clatter. "They're all going to act weird around me, in their own ways. First Michael, then Lindsay, who knows—"

"Hey," Brian frowned, "Michael hasn't even seen you!"

"Yet he's already warned you that I'm too dangerous to be with!" Justin countered. Coming round to where Brian sat perched on the barstool, the blonde stepped between his parted legs. "You told me that. And Lindsay just acted like I was going to eat your son. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"

Brian sighed, a clear sign that he didn't want to be having the conversation that he was having. "How does it make you feel?"

"Like a creep," Justin offered resignedly. "Awful. And maybe like she's right."

Brian's eyes shot up, a sharp amber. "What are you saying?"

"I'm not any danger to Gus. We both know that. But sometimes I feel like I really don't belong here."

"That's Evan talking."

"Is it? Brian you bought me a six pack of blood. I don't think you understand why I want don't want to drink it." The flippant man leant back in his chair with an eye roll, increasing the distance between them. But Justin didn't let him evade what he wanted to say. "It's more than just eating. It's something we crave. It's like… sex." Referring to feeding from humans, that was the only way that the young vampire knew how to put it so that Brian might understand. And the darker man's countenance did seem to soften at that analogy. "It's not just food. That whole experience is a huge part of me now. Can you try to understand that? This would be like me asking you to give up blowjobs forever."

"Giving or receiving?" the seated man asked flippantly.

"Both." Justin reached up to touch lightly at where a tiny bit of blood still lingered on Brian's lip. "Look what I did to you."

"It's nothing," Brian shrugged him off. "Why are you creating trouble where there isn't any? If we're too being accepting of you, then the problem is that you're more dangerous than we could possibly realize and you should go far away where we won't be hurt by you. If people aren't being accepting of you, then the problem is that we're all so terribly prejudiced and you should go far away where you can't be hurt by us. One minute you're upset that I'm not treating you like you're different enough, the next it's that other people are treating you too differently. Or if it's not that then you're going on about how you're too dangerous to be around. What exactly is it that you want? Or do you even know?"

Jaw tense, the other man managed, "I'm sorry if what feelings I do have seem too inconsistent for you,"

"They DO."

"But I'm trying to explain myself to you in the best way I can. Because I can't stand it if I don't. I don't want to keep hiding things from you."

_Jesus Christ, _Brian thought acerbically to himself. _Why did the kid have to be such a drama queen about everything? And what the heck was it that he felt he was hiding from him and had to share? _An annoyed frown marred the older man's face at those thoughts, and he stood. "I have to get to work," he muttered, moving for the bedroom. Justin didn't seem to have the confidence to follow, and it was probably a full three minutes of Brian shaving in the bathroom and doing his hair, before he called out pointedly, "Well? Are you going to explain what you want to explain or not?" In another moment's time Justin appeared at the bathroom's entrance, seeming hesitant. Brian watched him out of the corner of his eye as he ran product through his hair.

"I feel like everyone's waiting for me to prove how not different I am," he murmured. "And I hate that. I am different, and I don't want to feel at fault for that being the truth. I want you to be with me or not be with me based on the truth, not some illusion."

Brian repressed an eye roll. He rarely entertained illusions. "You just have to let everybody get used to you. Is that all?" he breezed, squirting toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

"No. There are other things. Sex and violence are very similar in my head these days," Justin admitted quietly. "I think about both probably on an equal scale. Evan says he does too, that it's normal. Aiden says it's how our brains work. But it doesn't make it easier to deal with."

"What?" Brian inquired, voice garbled by his tooth-brushing.

"I don't just think about drinking blood from people. I think about worse things: ripping them open, draining them dry. …I think those things about you sometimes. Sometimes when we're having sex, because… it's arousing to me."

Okay. Brian hadn't been expecting that. He stilled in his tooth brushing, staring fixedly ahead at his reflection. He'd insisted that he could handle Justin's weirdness, but even the normally-stoic man had to admit that he'd gone a bit paler in the mirror. "You think about killing me?" His eyes shot over to where Justin stood timidly in the doorway. "Seriously?!"

The blonde's expression crumpled in a wince. "I knew this would happen," he proclaimed, stalking out of sight. When Brian emerged into the bedroom to dress, the kid was already plopped on the living room sofa. Blue eyes watched disdainfully as the older man donned underwear, then his suit. He looked annoyingly perfect as he dressed. "Are you upset?" Justin asked, both wanting Brian to admit that what he'd said was highly upsetting, and to say that he miraculously wasn't upset by the admission.

"What am I supposed to say?" Brian snapped, focused on tying a Windsor knot. He felt like no matter what he said or did, it was always the wrong thing lately, and _that _was pissing him off. Brian Kinney did _not _play games like some insipid sophomoric twat. "What am I supposed to think? You just said you want to kill me."

"I said I think about it, not that I want to do it."

"Excuse me if I fail to see the distinction."

"That's the problem! You don't see the difference and there _is _one. I'm a vampire Brian, and that seems to be something which nobody wants to acknowledge. Everyone—including you—just acts like I'm recovering from something. Well I'm not 'recovering,' I just am. You need to accept that. If you can't then I don't see the point in trying so hard to be together anymore."

Justin's words cut the older man deeply, because he himself wanted nothing more than to be together with Justin again. The idea that his stalker, his Sunshine, didn't want it equally or to a greater extent than he did was upsetting and unnatural. Brian was the cold and unapproachable one, Justin was the happy, persistent one. This switch in roles went against their nature; Brian should have known they couldn't maintain it for long. He hated this version of the kid. This seething, angsting version of Justin who simultaneously tried to convince Brian that he belonged there exactly the way he was, while also trying to convince _himself_ that he didn't belong at all and should retreat. Darkly, Brian thought that he knew _exactly_ who he had to blame for creating all of this self-doubt bullshit in the young vampire. Fucking Evan. "I don't expect you to be something you aren't," Brian countered lowly.

"I drink blood. From PEOPLE. And I don't sleep, I won't age, I don't emote like you. I don't have the same feelings for everyone anymore and they aren't all coming back. I might be stuck this way for a long time, if not forever. I have a lot of violent thoughts, and I'm strong enough to hurt people, and I do. You're saying that none of that bothers you? Because I'd say the six pack sitting in your fridge does."

"Christ, is this still about the stupid six pack? I'll throw the god damned thing out! And what do you mean you _do _hurt people?" Brian asked suddenly, stepping down from the bedroom in full attire. "Who have you hurt?" Worriedly, he imagined all of the humans the other man must have sunk his teeth into up until then. At the lack of an answer, he prodded, "Justin? Who did you hurt?"

"I went back to the studio to see Kai," he revealed, voice tense with something bad. "He'd thought I was dead."

"Can't imagine why."

"YOU told him," Justin accused, not missing the telling twitch by the sharply-dressed man's eye. "Why would you do that, huh? Do you actually think I'm dead?"

"You know I don't think that. I just don't like him."

"Shitty thing to do Brian and you know it. Anyways, I practiced with him, at his invitation."

To himself, Brian thought that it was too bad that Justin had had to take back up with his violent hobbies. But then again, given his newly-revealed impulses towards violence, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. "How'd it go then?" he tried to ask casually, as he grabbed up his briefcase, a processed smoothie snatched neatly from the fridge. "You pay him back for all those bruises he was always sending you home with?"

"I broke his leg."


	21. Chapter 21

Justin spent the next week and a half missing the hell out of Brian, but what with the way they'd last parted, going back to the loft simply seemed like too much of an emotional hill to climb. Brian didn't like him the way he was now. Evan would reiterate that to Justin anytime he found himself doubting the severity of the impasse. Brian wanted him to change, and some things were simply impossible to change at this point. Or at least, that was what Evan and the more negative side of Justin's own brain told him. And the longer he allowed himself to stay away on this premise, the more his emotional hill grew, until it resembled somewhat of a mountain.

Since the snowstorm, Justin had only seen the older man once, and it hadn't exactly led to anything being moved forward or set backwards. All that seeing Brian that evening had resulted in, was Skylar Van Dorn going on and on about how awkward the encounter had been. Because he'd been there too, after all. It had begun as a business meeting between Justin and Brett Keller, to discuss the progress of a personal art commission for the director. But it had ended up being more about a rather intriguing job offer.

Brett wanted Justin to come and set up shop in Hollywood. He wanted to finance a gallery where the young man's concept art could be showcased. Back from the meeting, Justin stood poised behind the work that would become the first piece in Brett's collection of one-of-a-kind Taylor paintings, and what _might _become the first work displayed in the proposed _Taylor_ showroom. Holy shit.

Skylar, however, seemed to take a keener interest in the meeting with Brian, than the one with Keller. "I can't believe he didn't say anything!" the auburn haired man said with relief once they'd returned to the studio. Skylar perched himself in one corner of the sofa. "I mean, what are the chances that you run into the man who was supposedly the love of your life, and he doesn't say anything to try and… I don't know, get you back?"

"Maybe it's better that he didn't." Justin immediately picked up a paintbrush and some colors to mix, not eager to talk about the scene that had just played out. Besides, Brian wasn't the love of his life. Not anymore. "I should have suggested another restaurant for our meeting," Justin hedged. "Brian does business dinners at that place all the time. I just forgot." Carefully continuing the line of one of Rage's arms on the canvas before him, the young artist thought that Brian had probably looked about as furious as the depicted superhero on canvas, when he'd seen Justin come walking in with Skylar. "He seemed… unhappy," Justin admitted. "We surprised him I guess."

"He looked like he wanted to leap over the counter and murder me. I don't think he likes us hanging out together."

"Brian doesn't get to decide how I live my life. He needs to wrap his head around that, or we can't be together."

"But you miss him," Skylar ventured.

Justin frowned at how much that simple statement rang true. Instead he replied, "You can't miss someone you don't care about."

"But you DO care about him. You wouldn't still be painting that 'love song on canvas' if you didn't feel anything for him." The redhead's indication of the oil portrait of Brian did not go unrecognized by Justin. A knowing stare was fixed upon the latter as Skylar remarked, "You told me you'd gained more of your feelings back for him. I don't understand why you won't even try? Why are you avoiding him?"

"Why are you so nosy?" Justin countered grumpily. Giving up on his work for the night, he went and sat on the same couch as his friend and one time fuck. Sighing, he admitted, "I told Brian a bunch of shocking stuff about myself, and not in the most tactful way. We're both on edge around each other now. Neither one of us knows what to say. Or really what to do."

"So… an impasse then?"

Justin nodded unhappily. "You could say that."

Both men sat on the couch and stared ahead to the six foot by three frame of a comic book page that would soon be shipped to Brett Keller's Hollywood address. The very Hollywood where Justin had now been requested to return. The blonde honestly couldn't believe how insanely generous the offer was. What was worse: he couldn't believe he was having doubts about taking it. Justin ended up wandering to the kitchen to light a joint, returning to sit and offer half to Skylar. "Here."

"Thanks." Skylar's drag was deep, his exhale long and not nearly as artful as Brian would have done it. "You're thinking about going, aren't you?" The redheaded man asked, returning the joint so that his friend could partake.

Justin stared down at his fingers and gave a begrudging gesture. "What can I say? The offer's pretty damned amazing." He inhaled and let the burn linger in his lungs. "Hard to refuse."

Brett Keller was offering him the chance of a lifetime. A job working as a concept artist on Hollywood blockbusters was enough all on its own, but add to that a near guaranteed flow of art commissions, and a flipping _showroom _in a brand spanking new gallery, and it became pretty clear that this wasn't a chance that would come around again in a lifetime. _Well…_ Justin's lips curled up_, in a human lifetime anyway_. Sitting there on the Ikea furniture, getting high with the man who'd driven both of them straight into a river and one of them into a coma, Justin couldn't help but to replay the conversation he'd had with Brett over in his head:

_They'd gone to a trendy steakhouse where the director had pushed the idea that Justin come live and work for him in California. He hadn't minced words when Justin could only demure, pressing,_

"_Come on, it's not as if you've got a ton of reasons to stick around here anyways. This town is dead, and not in any way that's beneficial to you." At the artist's raised eyebrow, Brett had elaborated, "That Brian guy you were with is out of the picture, you said yourself that your family's moved closer to my side of the country anyways, and besides that, there's the whole vampire thing."_

"_How does me being a vampire make California a good choice?" Justin challenged, ignoring the whole "Brian guy" comment. "Isn't it the sunshine state?"_

"_That would be Florida. But the sun sets everywhere Justin. And you can bet that when it sets in Cali, there's a hell of a lot more for someone like you to experience over there than there is here. Nobody jives with the vamps over here, you can't have missed that."_

_The statement had been provocative to say the least. "And what?" he'd countered, "People are so accepting over there?"_

"_Hey, haven't you heard?" Brett grinned, "We're all raving liberals. You'd get along just fine on the west coast." One serious look later, he appealed, "You think about it: fabulous new life in Hollywood, or scrambling after the remnants of your old one here." Sitting back with the air of finality that was so natural to him, the director had merely shrugged in a way that almost said he didn't care. "Your choice," he'd said._

The meeting had concluded shortly after that, with Justin and Skylar nearly walking smack into Brian and his business client on the way out the door. At first Brian had looked glad to see him. His face had softened almost imperceptibly as their eyes met. But once the older man had spotted Skylar, it had all gone sour. An unseemly encounter might have taken place, but for their hasty departure out the front doors. Sitting there remembering it, Justin had to repress a wince. _Forget about it, _he urged himself. That had been another incident altogether, and it was over. Justin forced himself to think about the possibility of Hollywood, not Brian. "Yeah, hard to refuse," he repeated thoughtfully to Skylar. "I want to go. I just don't know if I'll be able to stop thinking about him if I do." Justin cast his eyes down to the floor as he admitted, "I feel things towards him now. He still doesn't know that. What if I take Brett's offer and it turns out I was this close to falling back in love with Brian? To remembering everything?"

"You have to decide if that's a risk worth taking, I guess."

"I don't know," Justin fretted. "I just wish this thing with Brian had never started up again. If he'd stayed away after the accident then I'd never feel like… like I owe it to him to try and make it work." What the blonde didn't say was that he also felt like he owed it to himself to see things through with Brian as well. "And then there's Evan, of course."

Skylar snorted. "What about him? He's a grown ass man who can take care of himself."

Justin wasn't so sure. "You didn't say that about Brian."

"Evan isn't your boyfriend. He's your roommate of two flipping months. You shouldn't have to worry about how he'll deal with you moving away."

"I know that!" Justin insisted, but the thought of what Evan would actually do, or how he would fare if forced to face a reality without Justin in it, filled the young artist with trepidation. The wiry vampire had been extra clingy ever since the incident with Kai at the Krav Maga studio. He'd almost seemed to draw reassurance from the accident, as if it was just one more step in cementing his place in the world with Justin. "I don't think he'd handle it… well if I left." Despite Evan's behavior, Justin knew he'd feel guilty for abandoning him on the east coast. Evan didn't seem like the kind of person who could deal well with life on his own. Ruefully, Justin imagined packing the older vampire up in his suitcase with everything else and bringing him along like so much luggage.

"Well you're going to have to figure out what you want. That Brett guy won't wait forever on a nobody like you. He's the big shit."

Justin rolled his eyes. "I _know_." Then again, he thought, in LA his lifestyle would be so much better. He could go out at night to clubs and bars without anyone giving him a second glance. Work wouldn't be so difficult to coordinate, since unlike Pittsburgh, L.A. never slept. Certain parts of the city were like Liberty Avenue for vampires. He could reinvent himself there. Shed his old life like dead skin and start from scratch. No excuses, no apologies, no regrets. Just like Brian always said. Justin blinked at the unanticipated thought. "God damn it! There I go thinking about Brian again," he chuckled, glancing at Skylar. "I can't leave him out of the equation, no matter how much I want to."

"You should tell him then," the redhead suggested, still smoking what was left of their joint. "Go see him."

"I don't even know…"

"Come on. I bet he misses you."

"Brian would never miss anyone. And if he did he'd never admit to it," Justin corrected, feeling almost fond as he thought of the obstinate older man. "I'm sure he's doing just fine. Probably going on as usual; working like a dog, drinking like a fish, and fucking like a—

"Bunny!"

Brian watched with a self-satisfied smirk as his son splayed out on the floor ahead, trying to embrace the fluffy animal despite the fact that it didn't seem to be too keen on being held. The thing was struggling with wild legs to heft itself over the trap of four-year old arms. So far, Gus was winning. Brian grinned while everyone else in the room pretty much just looked on, perplexed or pissed off. The gang was dispersed throughout the loft, having gathered for Brian's declared "important meeting," but they were currently more preoccupied by the highly unexpected thing that said man had done. He'd gone and bought Gus a pet rabbit. Surely this wasn't why they'd all gathered so conspicuously on a Tuesday evening, was it?

"Daddy?" Wide, inquiring eyes that so mirrored Brian's own shone up from the floor. "What's his name?"

"Well Sonnyboy, I thought we'd call him _Dracula_."

Gus repeated the name, while half the room winced. Lindsay could be heard making a sound of dismay at her friend's provocative sense of humor. "Clever Brian," she drawled.

"That's not even funny."

"What are you even trying to do here?"

The comments came, and Brian shrugged unapologetically. Emmett and Debbie—who had placed themselves side by side for this little get-together—shared a titter. At Ted's raised eyebrow, Emmett quieted and muttered, "Well… we think it's funny."

"I just don't get you sometimes Brian."

"Jesus Christ people!" Brian suddenly burst forth, rising from his cross-legged position to stand before them all. "I bought the kid a freaking rabbit!" The impassioned man stared down at the creature with disdain. Brian had always suspected that he hated rabbits, but now he knew for sure. There it sat on the wood floor: dirty and malevolent. It was there to help him make a point, but the normally fastidiously-clean man couldn't wait to have the animal out of his living space. "I mean, just look at it!" he exclaimed once again. "It bites and it sheds and it shits; and I've had it in this apartment for almost an entire day. This glorified oversized rodent. Nobody has anything to say about that. But I name it _Dracula_, and everybody has a reaction? Is the room so rife with Vampire-taboo tension that I can get a rise from you so easily?" Nobody answered him. They all seemed to freeze up at the outburst, not quite sure what Brian's purpose was in this speech, though they all knew that he surely had one. Lindsay and Ben seemed to be the coolest cucumbers in the room as everybody else bit their lips or their fingernails at what would be said next. "If I mention Justin's name, are you going to freak out too?" he asked.

"Told ya this was about him," Hunter quipped from behind, where he was primarily glued to some game on the television's Wii system. He seemed to be addressing Michael. "It so is. You owe me ten bucks."

"God damn it Brian," Melanie was complaining. "How selfish can you be? Do you have any idea how much work these things are to take care of? How much they shit?"

Brian nodded. _Oh, he had learned. _"That's what backyards are for."

"He can't keep it. Are you going to be the one to explain it to him?" She fumed, sitting back with a huff when Lindsay quieted her. "Stupid shegetz."

"Well, if things have deteriorated to the point of Yiddish slurs already, then I think it's time we move on." Straightening, Brian announced, "I didn't invite you all here just for the thing"—at "thing," he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of Gus and the rabbit. "You're here because the liberty 'gang' needs an intervention."

"Intervention?" Ted piped up, "Intervention for what?"

"Yes Theodore, we all realize this isn't your first go-round with that sort of thing," Brian snarked. Ted sat back with a resilient scowl. "It's an intervention because you all are acting bat shit insane about the whole 'Ohmygod Brian's boyfriend got turned into a vampire' thing, and it needs to stop." _Lord did it need to stop, _he thought. If he was ever going to get Justin to assimilate back into real life, then half the blonde's known world couldn't keep treating him so strangely. It was damn counterproductive to Brian's purposes. "So tonight we're having a little remedial sensitivity training." Brian fixed sharp eyes on Melanie, "Mel: you should pay extra close attention. It's obvious you were absent when they taught this sort of stuff in grade school." He received a rude gesture from the woman at that, but kept going, "Obviously, as you can all see: Justin isn't living here anymore. As unfortunate as that is for him, that situation could change. But if I'm going to keep him around, you need to change too," he asserted to each person seated before him. "You guys are awkward and you don't know what to think or say, I get it. I was like that too, at first. But you can't let assumptions and stereotypes color your opinions about Justin. I mean, we're all a bunch of queers—you count too Debbie, don't worry—so we should know better than to judge like that. Being all bent out of shape because he's around Gus"—Brian glanced at Lindsay—"or because you think he's going to hurt me"—a glance at Michael—"or because you just feel embarrassed or sorry for him"—a stern glance at nearly everyone in the room—"Isn't okay. Grow up, suck it up, and learn to treat him like normal.

"But he's not normal," Michael was arguing. "How are we supposed to act like nothing's happened? This was huge."

Brian fixed the shorter man with a look of understanding. Maybe the first such look he'd awarded to anyone so far. Michael was his best friend. Brian had always been able to forgive him for the stuff that would earn others a character assassination. It was that unflagging soft spot that had him replying, "I know Mikey. And since, judging from everybody's expression right now, this seems to be such a daunting request I'm making of you all, I'd like to introduce our guest speaker for the night."

"Guest speaker?" Nearly three voices parroted back at him. "Brian," this from Ted, "What are you doing?"

"I'm sensitive," Deb was asserting, sounding nearly hurt. "I hired Sunshine's little vampire friend at the diner, didn't I? Don't tell me about being fucking sensitive."

"Ahem!" Brian waited until he had their attention again, then said, "I'd like you all to meet Aiden."

"Who?"

Just then, they all saw him. From some inscrutable shadow in the bedroom, Aiden emerged, just on cue. The handsome vampire took steps down to the living area where they all were, joining Brian at the forefront. "Hello," he offered assuredly. "That would be me."

"Who're you?" Hunter had finally turned around to ask, eyeing the man up as if he was walking money. From across the room, Ben and Michael shot the teen a warning look. "What?! I was just asking!"

Perhaps a bit puzzled, Aiden told them all, "I'm the resident vampire counselor at Pitt General. Brian thought it would be a good idea for me to come over and talk to you guys about what Justin has been going through."

"You know Justin?" this from Melanie.

"You… did you make him a… you know."

Aiden chuckled, and flowed right into his spiel about vampires and vampirism, and how neither was a dirty word. He talked, they asked questions, and he answered them with a winning smile. He had the gang at rapt attention within thirty seconds, the center of their attention.

Brian had to avoid making any off-putting postures or facial expressions as the other man took over his role as guest speaker. Despite the fact that he himself was the one who'd invited the vampire into his loft, the surly host couldn't help his acerbic thoughts as he watched the man win over his friends so easily. _Look at him_, he thought, winning them over with his appropriate speech and his appropriate sweater and his general… appropriateness.Ugh. Nothing was more annoying than utterly appropriate people. Especially when he couldn't ignore the fact that he was maybe a little jealous of said appropriate person.

Summarily, Aiden was the super-hot vampire who'd converted Justin and kept him close by for a month. Teaching him, mentoring him, doing god knows what to "comfort" him. He was Justin's _maker _for Christ's sake. Brian couldn't help but to think of it as an incredibly intimate connection. The usually self-assured man hadn't quite been able to extinguish that pilot light of jealousy that still burned at Aiden's existence, but he could at least put off his dislike for the good of this meeting. Once the sensitivity training had begun, he slipped off to the side and sought isolation within the bathroom's four walls.

He'd just lit a Newport when a distinctly lesbian-shaped shadow clouded through the screen partition of the door. "No, please, don't," he'd muttered around the cigarette with complete lack of conviction, as Lindsay insinuated herself into the bathroom. The blonde gave him a perceptive look and slid the door shut behind her. "They're receiving quite the education out there."

"Yeah? Why aren't you out there receiving it too?" Brian murmured darkly. "You treated Justin like a piece of shit the last time he was here."

Lindsay's eyes lowered to the floor in acknowledgement, "Yes, I did do that. I'm sorry now though. You know I know better."

Brian gave a grumpy nod, fully-aware of the reason that his friend had over-reacted. "But it was Gus."

"But it was Gus. Irrational fears and," she adeptly took the butt from Brian's fingers, inhaling, "you know: blah, blah blah. I'd take it back if I could. I'll apologize when I see him next."

"Good plan."

"You didn't have to get the rabbit though," she scolded. "That's going to be a disaster. I don't expect you'd consider keeping it here."

"You handle the rabbit, I'll handle the vampire. Justin bites and sheds and poops enough on his own. I can't handle taking care of two living things at the same time. I'll be tapped out at one."

Lindsay fixed Brian with a very particular look at the bizarrely-domestic reference to Justin. It was her "I'm going to give you some serious advice" look, and it had the dark-haired man sinking into himself like an insolent child. "If you want my honest advice,"

"Never said I needed it."

"It's that Justin needs to get used to us as much as we need to get used to him. And if you're going to keep him in your life like you say you are, then you're going to have to look out for his needs too Brian."

Brian was incensed. "And what makes you think I wouldn't?"

"You're a self-serving person, first and foremost. And I know you," she goaded. "You want him back like you had him before, but maybe that's not fair. I don't know Justin now like you do, but I do know that he's changed, and I also know that everybody comes to a point where they have to make concessions for the ones they love."

For a moment, Brian's eyes regarded her with a hint of something more than fondness. "Concessions," he repeated. "Like you did for me?"

The blonde sighed. "Yes, like we did for each other." Her words evoked a soft smile from the other man, as they each contemplated the companionship that, had it not been for conflicting orientations, could have been so much more. Placing a hand on her oldest friend's shoulder, Lindsay said, "You're my true love, Brian Kinney. But you're a gay man and I'm a dyke. No way was that gonna work out. But _this _can," she urged. "From what you've told me, he'll take any excuse you provide to run away from this. So this time you're going to have to be the one to save things."

Brian snorted. "I know. That's the crazy part." Hepulled Lindsay close and pressed their foreheads together, making her promise, "No more weirdness. No more treating him like that. Not from you or anyone else." Privately, he really hoped that Aiden was able to achieve some major reeducation out in the living room, because with the things Justin had admitted to him about his new state of being, Brain wasn't sure he could handle one more ounce of weirdness anymore. Pulling things back together the way they were supposed to be was going to be hard enough without the Liberty Gang's added faux pas, after all. "He won't rip you to shreds if you don't do it to him."

"No more weirdness," she promised, squeezing his hand. Brian flushed the remnants of the cigarette down the toilet, and together they made their way back out into the living room-turned reeducation camp.


	22. Chapter 22

Not long after the whole sensitivity training ordeal, Brian, Emmett, Ted, and Michael found themselves quite a ways away from Liberty Avenue, in a distinctly straight section of town that had them feeling a little bit like fish out of water. Inside the Seventh Street CrossFit gym, Emmett was the only one who had not yet taken up a form of physical activity. He was pouting obstinately as Brian did something with weights, Michael jumped onto and off of boxes, and Ted tackled something resembling monkey bars.

"Come on Em," Ted call enthusiastically from his monkey bars, "give it a try. This is actually kind of fun!"

"Fun?" The unhappy man asked, looking for all the world like something akin to a diva in gym clothes. "You call this fun?"

"Sure!"

"Where are the yoga mats? Where are the hot instructors? Where is the juice bar?"

"Come on twinkle toes," Brian goaded. "We've left fairy land. Now shake off that dust and put some sweat into it like a real man."

Emmett looked completely off put. "Brian; there isn't a _Yogenfrutz_ or a _Pinkberry_ within three blocks of this so-called gym, there's an _AutoZone _next door to here, and I'm pretty sure the nearest bar is screening reruns of _Band of Brothers_. I think I'm morphing into a 'real man' just by sitting here. …Dude," he tacked on for emphasis. A subdued shiver coursed through him, as if the thought was nearly repellant. "Why on Earth are we even at this breeder gym when we have a perfectly nice one over on Liberty Av?" He ran his fingers mournfully over the red velour of his short shorts. "So much for showing off my seventies vintage ensemble."

"Oh, I think your outfit's noticed here too," Ted assured. None of the men in the place could seem to stop staring at the gaggle of gays who'd invaded.

" '_Noticed_,' yes," Brian shamelessly eyed the next hot guy who walked across his path, "These straight guys check me out even more than the ones back home." He grinned widely over at a winded-looking Michael, "I think we should try crossfit more often!"

"Remember why you're here in the first place?" Michael reminded sternly. "Justin goes here now. The idea was to come see him, not hook up with some married guy in the bathroom."

"Who says I can't do both?"

"Um, guys?" Ted was signaling from the monkey bars, where he now hung inverted. "I think you might want to direct your attention over to the left."

Four pairs of eyes slid sideways to view the backside of a well-endowed gym goer, bent over by the water fountain. The ass was well-covered in a pair of gym shorts, but still unmistakable. Brian grinned, setting down his weights. "Hello, sunshine." He moved to approach, pausing only at Michael's next remark of,

"Oh geeze, he's got that creepy vampire with him." The remark caused Brian to glare back pointedly, forcing a defensive Michael to amend, "I mean _he's _creepy, not that all vampires are!" Brian started walking over to where Justin had taken up a treadmill, and Michael shared a wary look with Emmett. "I wasn't being insensitive!" he insisted once again, "Evan _is _creepy."

"Gotta be careful what you say around some people I guess."

"Well he should just grow a thicker skin," Michael grumbled.

Emmett stood, consoling, "Come on baby, cheer up. Now while our dear Brian is over there wooing the non-creepy vampire, why don't you show me what exactly it was you were doing with these jumping boxes. It looked fascinating." Michael perked up, seeming interested enough to show his less athletic friend the ropes. And Emmett smiled along as he agreed that _yes_, box-jumping sounded like an excellent high intensity interval workout.

Emmett was a very good liar.

Justin had taken up a treadmill, but unfortunately he was running alongside the wiry form of Evan, his undead roommate that Brian was finding more and more reasons not to like. Averting his course of action, the older man lingered behind one of the gymnasium's pillars while he waited for his moment to approach. From his positioning, he could clearly make out the conversation passing back and forth between the two vampires ahead.

"Are you kidding me? There are tons of reasons not to go!" Evan hissed, sounding completely perturbed. He'd just turned the speed on his treadmill up to twelve and a half miles per hour, causing Justin to glance over worriedly,

"Evan, I don't think the machine can go much faster without breaking…"

"I mean: don't you think it's a bit ludicrous, him asking you to pack up and completely traverse the country for him?" Evan huffed, sounding far more upset at the news than what Justin had been hoping for. "It just goes to show you how self-centered all those Hollywood types are. If you go, they'll probably all be like that."

"Um, I hadn't thought about that," Justin mumbled from his own treadmill. He was sprinting at his own very comfortable ten mile an hour pace, wondering what on earth had possessed him to announce the _Brett_ news to Evan in such a public place. Glancing over to his furious friend, Justin knew the truth: he'd done it in public to avoid a truly catastrophic reaction from Evan. "But I know Brett is a great guy. He'd even let me stay in his guest house again until I found a place."

"Yeah, probably so he can have you slave labor away all day and night for _his_ gallery. He figures: hey, vampires don't sleep. That's all the more work I can get out of the poor sucker. And him spinning LA to you like it's some vampire playland? I've been to LA, and it's nothing special. Just another place to get high," Evan sniped, trying to go even faster, though the treadmill groaned. "You won't know anybody and how the hell am I supposed to pay rent?" the treadmill groaned even louder, and then something cracked.

"Dude you're going to break it!"

The warning was too little, too late. Something that sounded far too heinous to be good emitted from within the machine's inner belt, and then it stopped working altogether. Evan hopped off with inhuman speed, and Justin stared in worry. The machine definitely looked broken. "Fuck!"

"You're going to have to go tell the guy at the front desk," Justin advised, not sounding happy at all. "Christ, Evan. This is why they kicked us out of the Liberty Gym. If we keep breaking shit, they're not going to let us into any gym in Pittsburgh." A quick glance around showed several nearby gym members to be staring. Justin cringed in embarrassment.

"I break treadmills, you break instructors," the wiry man twisted his lips wryly, "We should get insurance or something."

The joke wasn't funny to Justin, and he only watched in disapproval as Evan meandered away to try and track down an employee. So caught up in thoughts of his friend, he failed to notice as Brian sidled up alongside to lean against the broken treadmill. "You were kicked out of the Krav studio too?"

Brian's voice had Justin snapping his head back. "What? Oh, yeah." The blonde faltered, and if it'd been possible, he would have blushed. Justin had no idea what Brian was doing there, or how long he'd been listening. "Kai's not going to be able to walk for another six weeks. They told me I couldn't come back. It's too much of a liability and they can't afford to keep replacing instructors."

"I'm sorry."

Justin snorted, "You always hated that I did martial arts."

"Well you did have to go out and choose the most violent type. But still, I know how much it meant to you."

Whatever trace of sadness passed over Justin's face, he tried to quash it quickly. "No point thinking about it now," he muttered. "What are you even doing here? The Liberty gym is much more your speed."

Brian chuckled, allowing himself to lean against the side rail of the younger man's cardio equipment. The move put him all the closer to Justin's personal space. "The Liberty Gym is sorely lacking in the twink variety of eye candy lately, and I wanted to admire your athletic prowess. Let's see, what are you doing here…" he snuck a peek at the machine's display, "ten and a half and nary a drop of sweat?"

"I told you I'm stronger." Challenging blue eyes met his. "Another vampire thing, so I'm sure you'd rather not hear about it. Why don't you just go back to your life, okay? I'll go back to mine."

"Pff, yeah fucking right. Do you have any idea who I had to blow to find out about your new playground?" When Justin only pursed his lips at the provocative statement, Brian repressed an angry sigh. Drama, drama, drama. "I _told _you: I'm sorry for the way I reacted to the things you told me. They were shocking. I was shocked. It doesn't mean I don't want to keep seeing you, or sleeping with you. It certainly doesn't mean I can't 'accept you for how you are', or whatever bullshit explanation that roommate of yours has fed you."

"Evan is just looking out for me," Justin defended, though he was relieved to hear the darker man offering words of apology. It was a rarity, from Brian. "He doesn't think you can deal with it."

"I'm sure Evan thinks a lot of things, but don't you think you should give me a chance to prove that I _can_ deal?" Brian asked. "Maybe give all of us a chance to prove it? I've spoken to Lindsay and Michael about their behavior. I've spoken to everyone, really."

Justin blinked, seemingly taken-aback by this news. "You… you stood up for me?"

Brian couldn't believe it. He's _always _stood up for Sunshine. Maybe not in ways that the kid could always see, but nonetheless… it was oddly painful to know that Justin hadn't expected Brian to defend him. "Of course, you stupid twat. They were being ridiculous. I sat them all down and made sure they knew what's what. And like I said: they want a chance. We all want a chance with you." Softer, he admitted, "_I _want a chance. I want you to come home." Brian wouldn't have said so, but after such a forthcoming speech, he felt nearly winded_. Jeeze, being honest was hard work_, he thought. Out loud he queried brazenly, "So, are you going to hidey-hole yourself away from life again, or have enough balls to give this a real shot?" Brian didn't think he had it in him to trade any more blow jobs for information…

Justin looked thoughtful, but quickly morphed into lukewarm compliance. "Okay, I guess so. If you promise to try and be okay with the way I really am, then I'll try too. But I'm not going to tiptoe around stuff anymore, and if anybody so much as gives me the hairy eyeball, I'm calling them out on it."

A huge wave of relief washed through Brian. He hadn't even realized how tense he'd been until all the muscles in his stiff posture relaxed. Justin had said yes. He was going to try after all. Brian was going to get to be with him on a semi-regular basis once again. But that still left the other gaping problem that Brian had eavesdropped on, the one to do with L.A.… He shook his head, some deep-seated defense mechanism jumbling his thoughts enough to forget what he'd thought he'd heard Justin discussing with Evan, at least temporarily. "What marathon are you training for?" Brian asked as an aside, still gathering his thoughts after the blonde's acquiescence.

"Oh. Evan and I got way too high last night. We ate a bunch of crap. Gotta burn it off."

Ah, yes. Brian remembered what his ex-partner had told him about slow vampire metabolism. "How unfortunate," he simpered, running one hand meaningfully up and down the length of the machine's arm rail. "You know: if you're desperate to burn calories, I can think of better ways to do that." Brian leered with obvious intent, adding, "And a way to save a few treadmills from an early death."

He caught Justin's eye at that, and even as he was marveling that the younger man could be full-on _sprinting _as calmly as if it were a summer's stroll, said man was eying him back with quickly darkening eyes. Justin wasn't disinterested in the cocky proposition, it seemed, and Brian's grin only grew as the treadmill's speed was reduced down to a standstill. Justin may have lost all emotional memory for him, but he clearly hadn't lost that urgent need to fuck that they'd both always shared. And that was a damned good thing too, Brian thought, because it had always been one of his favorite qualities to their relationship. "You know I haven't seen the locker rooms here yet," he piped. "Anything to write home about?"

"Definitely not."

"Hmm, sounds _dirty_."

Justin snickered at Brian's peevish grin. "Oh yes," he agreed, "Absolutely _filthy_."

"Lead the way."

Justin didn't seem to be able to suppress his smile. That smile that only the provocative man seemed able to put on his face. Being away from Brian, let alone being upset at him, just didn't seem to be the young vampire's forté. And maybe it never had been. _Oh well, _he thought, as he followed Brian into the men's locker room. _The best laid plans of mice and men…_

Justin hadn't lied. The locker room was filthy.

Creaky benches, rusted-out lockers, and cracked tile abounded, and the kid had him cornered in the sauna. Brian deduced that saunas were significantly less popular amongst straight men than gay, due to the fact that they were the only two bodies in the room. As Justin removed their shirts, the older man couldn't think of a reason for how their solitude could be a negative. "You know," he muttered, watching as the young vampire kissed feverishly across his collar bones, "If the idea was to become clean… I don't think we'll get any less dirty in here." There were tempting beads of sweat already welling up along Justin's skin, and it was downright hot to look at.

"Never said I wanted that." Iceberg blue eyes looked up at him, "You lost your virginity in a locker room, right?"

"I honestly can't believe you remember that."

"Well, I wasn't there," Justin quipped cleverly, turning Brian's phrasing on its head. "Being like three years old at the time and all. But we're here together now. And you know when you think about it," he traced cool fingertips down Brian's heated skin, slipping just under the waistband of his gym shorts, "you've kind of come full circle."

Brian couldn't stand it any longer. He yanked the younger man's hands away and held them to the wall, using his hips to pin Justin's body as well. "Yeah?" he husked. "How's that?"

"Well, now you're the old pervert taking advantage of the inappropriately-aged boy in the showers."

"Oh ho," Brian nearly growled before he stole a rough kiss from the shorter man. "Low blow Sunshine. But I've got news for you…"

"Yeah?" Justin rubbed their hips together, trapped though he was, letting the other man feel his quickening hardness through the shorts. He bit his lip seductively, "What's that?"

"You haven't been a boy in a long time." The way that he said it, coupled with the languorous thrust that Brian gave him, had Justin moaning into their next joining of mouths. "But I'd say you're definitely still inappropriate."

"Brian,"

Brian released Justin's hands, moving to peel off his own shorts and underwear. He didn't have to hint that Justin should do the same. The heat between them was growing, the thick air making everything seem headier. Against the wall, Justin was reaching for Brian, beckoning him closer again with fast breaths and hands that couldn't hold still. The feeling of that need, of all that uncontrollable want and lust being focused in on him was like a drug to Brian. And he hadn't had a hit in what felt like forever.

Justin against him like this was all he wanted, all he craved, and now it was given. After twenty days of no Sunshine, finally the clouds were parting. "God, yes," he hissed lowly as they tangled, naked erections trapped between sticky, desperate bodies. "Justin…" he groaned when the blonde grabbed him and stroked. No well-constructed words came then. Only his name. The kid's name cycled through his head as if it were a prayer, and maybe it was. Brian hadn't had Justin in nearly three weeks, and he found himself aching for it more than he ever would have imagined. They were perfect like this, Brian thought. Their bodies together, smiling and grimacing and moaning. And whether it was in the backroom of Babylon or his bed, he'd come back to it again and again for the rest of his life if he could. Justin was the only man he'd ever felt that with.

It wasn't something Brian was willing to let go. Through sheer force of will, Brian Kinney usually got the things he wanted. And he wanted Justin. Halting their endless kisses, the darker man reached down to separate Justin's hands from his body. "Turn around," he husked, prepared to search his abandoned shorts in the hopes of finding a condom there.

"Brian, just fuck me without it."

The words had the older man stopping in his tracks. "What?"

Justin held his gaze, eyes gone nearly navy with need by this point. "Come on," he cajoled, composure nearly gone. "Forget the condom." By now the water in the air had collected all across his body, and he shimmered with it, looking for all the world like the most tempting mirage Brian had ever seen. But Brian's eyes narrowed, refusing to be sucked into the false promise,

"Are you insane?" He used a fist to grapple most of the back of Justin's hair into his fist, pulling to get that strong jaw angled fiercely up at him. "Raw?"

"I'm a vampire. No diseases. So forget the condom and just fuck me."

Brian blinked through the steam, and realized that he had never thought of that. _No diseases… Ever?_ "Really?"

"Yeah."

He had Justin turned against the wall in record time. "You're sure?" he asked, fingers already running down to stroke along Justin's crease. Fucking having the kid bareback. It had always been a dark fetish of Justin's, though Brian hadn't quite understood why. He never, ever thought he'd see the day where he'd do this. They were both just too damned promiscuous.

"I'm sure Brian, it's safe I promise." It was all the promise that Brian needed. Justin had to brace himself hurriedly against the tiled wall, because the next thing he knew, the older man was penetrating him. He grunted at the rough intrusion, gritting his teeth at the anticipated sting. "Fuck!"

"Hold still, and relax," Brian coaxed, well aware of the pain. "I'll make it feel good."

Justin panted, feeling nearly light-headed from the heavy air. "You always do."

Hips flush against his lover's ass, Brian waited long seconds to move. "And when this is over, you're going to tell me about L.A."

The breath caught in Justin's throat, and he was invaded as Brian thrust into him. "Ah!" He hadn't expected either onslaught, Brian's words and his cock catching him off guard. He braced himself against the craggy tile of the wall, thrilling to his core when Brian could be felt gathering their torsos together with strong arms, his hips left to piston into the younger man. "Oh god," Justin gasped, reaching quickly for his own erection. _Brian was in him_, he marveled. Raw, no barriers. And when he came, it would in him. Justin had always wondered what that would feel like…

Brian held them together as they fucked, and Justin jerked himself until the abusive pace was hardly a discomfort anymore. "Fuck, yeah just like that!" he cried, groaning as he felt the other man lag from behind. "Come on, come on," he urged. He didn't want to stop. He didn't ever want to stop with Brian.

But Brian pulled out. "Turn around," he ordered quickly, rough hands already forcing him to do just that. Both men knew why. The sizeable height difference between them made standing up fucks a pain in Brian's ass. Or more accurately: his hamstrings. Once the darker man had him with his back to the wall, however, Justin found himself rapidly lifted, turned, and unceremoniously dumped onto the nearest tiled bench.

A swell of pain coursed through the vampire at the contact, and he grit his teeth as Brian entered him again. "Oh, shit." A tone of alarm colored his impassioned cry, completely missed by Brian in their lust.

Panting breaths of exertion bounced off the walls of the sauna as the men reunited, Bodies drawing close together again and again as they fucked. Justin was hurt; he could feel it at his back, but the man taking his body so wonderfully hadn't noticed anything amiss, and he forced himself to bite back the pain in favor of the pleasure. Justin's blue eyes were nearly glazed over with tears, but he squeezed them shut so it couldn't be seen. "Touch me. Please, please," he begged, needing to feel the older man's hands on him, needing the pleasure of it. Brian was in him, trusting him in a way he never had before, and Justin would be damned if he was going to stop it.

Brian's mouth wouldn't stay closed, he was so close. The grimace that scarred his brow nearly matched the agonized expression on Justin's own beautiful features. "Ugh," he choked in desperation, barely cognizant enough to stroke Justin to his own peak. When the blonde finally shuddered against him in completion, Brian lost it completely. A final thrust of his hips had him pulsing, his release lost within his lover's body.

"…Um," a short moment of postcoital silence was broken by Justin's first words. "Brian?"

The darker man inhaled deeply, his posture weakened as he tried to regain his breath in the stifling room. "Hm?"

"…Will you lift me up from the bench? Carefully?"

Brian opened his eyes, which for a brief time he'd been holding closed. His attention snapped back to the man below him, taking instant note of his pained expression. "Why? What's wrong?"

"There's something cutting my back. It hurts."

Instantly, Brian was reaching to ease his lover's form away from where he'd laid him in the first place. Justin cried out sharply at the leverage, while Brian cursed. "Shit! You're bleeding. Oh shit Justin it's bad."

"Yeah I can tell. How bad?"

Brian's warm hands encircled the blonde's waist, trying to be as gentle as possible as he lifted him to sitting. "Careful, shh," he soothed at Justin's choked moan. "Careful, let me take a look okay?" Behind, Brian could see what had happened to the kid's back, and he winced at the damage. Smeared blood and an entirely unsafe piece of dislodged tile left on the bench below let him know exactly what had pierced the blonde's back so viciously.

"God, whatever it is, it didn't hurt this bad until you pulled me off of it,"

"That's what she said."

Justin weakly smacked him, face buried in Brian's chest. "Not funny."

Brian's tone didn't match the alarmed set of his eyes, but Justin couldn't see that. The kid had been cut—no, fucking pierced, by more than an inch of jagged tile going straight up into his back. "You're lucky you don't have a punctured lung right now," Brian murmured, though he was entirely unsure how far anything would have to cut to achieve that. "But there's a lot of blood, and you're going to have to get stitches."

"Fuck, I hate stiches."

Brian pulled back, trying to make sure the younger man didn't move with him. An unsettling realization came upon him that Justin must have had the tile in him from the moment Brian moved them to the bench, yet he'd said nothing. He'd allowed Brian to continue, encouraging it even. And Justin had come. How the hell had he come with an inch of glass through his skin?! Brian squeezed his eyes shut at the question, not liking any of the few answers that his befuddled mind could come up with. "Why the hell didn't you say something?!" he scolded. "You let me fuck you like that? God damn it, Justin. Sit still. I'm going to get someone."

"What?! Brian!" Justin grappled with the darker man's hands to still him, the motion painting a wince over his features. "Get me a towel first!" He was very much butt-ass naked.

"Just sit still."

Brian hurried out of the steam room, and for a second Justin was worried that he would have to face the gym manager and probably a paramedic, buck naked. But the towel was fetched first, and he gratefully draped it over himself as his lover prepared to leave again, presumably for a medical professional. "Brian wait," he called as the other man was already turning to do just that, "I think it's going to be okay, I feel—"

"Don't pull the 'I'm recovered' bullshit with me," Brian hurriedly interrupted. "I'm getting someone." He'd heard it enough times before. Justin hated admitting that he was hurt or sick. Ever since the bashing, he'd rather walk around with a broken rib than admit he needed help. And with that damned Krav Maga instructor's help, such situations had been more the norm than not. With an air of anxiousness, Brian managed to slip his damp gym shorts back on. "Wait here," he repeated to his injured lover, as if there was any other option. "I'll be right back."

"But Brian…" Justin trailed off, sighing heavily as he was already abandoned.

Making quick work of finding the nearest gym employee and a well-stocked first aid kit, Brian was back in the steam room in less than three minutes. But as he stood there in befuddlement while the employee examined Justin, Brian found that three minutes was apparently plenty of time for a vampire to heal a puncture wound.

"I don't know," the confused employee was saying as he nervously eyed all of the blood that had been smeared on the sauna's tiled bench. His hands hesitantly returned to the irritated pink skin on Justin's back. "Are you sure you aren't injured somewhere else?"

From his seated position, Justin quirked an eyebrow up at his lover. "Some minor soreness. But that's from my… workout."

Despite the fact that Justin was nearly-naked, and Brian not much better in naught but gym shorts, the employee didn't seem to have grasped the point that they'd been having raucous gay sex in his grody steam room. Instead he fixed Justin with a look of concern. "You said he threw you down on this bench?"

"Um, sort of."

"If he got rough with you, I can have his membership revoked." Gym-employee guy glared over at Brian. "Fighting isn't tolerated on the premises."

"Oh for Christ's sake, I wasn't pounding him with my fists, I was pounding him with my—"

"We were having sex," Justin interrupted hastily, figuring that to be the more tactful explanation than what Brian seemed ready to offer. "…Ah, sorry."

The apology tacked onto the end was due to the fact that the gym employee now looked even more distressed. Straight men never seemed quite able to stomach the prospect of gay men going at it, and Justin knew that this went well beyond any routine case of buttsex. Apparently it was beyond the poor employee's capacity for the night to deal with the prospect of an injured, gay, just-got-fucked in the locker room, _vampire _before closing time. "Um," he waivered. "Well there's no sex allowed in the locker room either, I'm pretty sure. I'll have to get someone in here to clean up the blood."

"We'll just go," the blonde demurred, standing while executing his best attempt at wrapping the towel around his hips. "Come on," he tried to take Brian's hand to lead him out of the steam room, but the older man stood stagnant.

"Go? What about your back?" he protested, turning to address the gym man. "What about the fucking piece of glass that you have sticking out of your bench?! He could have punctured a lung!"

"I'm putting in a maintenance order…"

Brian glared, only pulled away by Justin's repeated pleas to "let it go." Back out near the lockers, Brian forced Justin to turn around so that he could personally scrutinize his back. "Absolutely ridiculous," he was fuming quietly. "This whole place is a liability. You could sue them for what just happened."

"I'm fine—"

"Turn around and hold still!"

"You know, in any other circumstance that would sound so hot…"

Brian twisted his lips at the younger man's words, the improbability of the situation staring him in the face, making his stomach twist up in knots. He trailed the pads of his fingers over the spot where, not moments ago, a gaping wound had been. Or at least it had seemed gaping to him. "I don't understand," he was saying. "It was right here."

"And now it's better. Brian there's nothing to worry about anymore. Can we just get dressed and go? I don't want to get barred from this gym too."

"The happy heteros don't want you fucking in their steam rooms."

"Yeah well, you'll just have to be more careful not to skewer me next time," Justin cackled at his own clever innuendo.

" …You didn't tell me you could heal so fast." Internally, Brian was fighting not to feel disquieted at the sight of Justin's flawless skin, but he couldn't deny he was a little freaked out by the episode. He hoped that Justin wouldn't ask about his demeanor, since he didn't want to lie. "I thought you were really hurt."

"I tried to tell you I didn't need help."

"You always said that before. It was always just you being stubborn before."

"Yeah well, a lot of things are different from before," Justin replied seriously. Glancing back towards the door to the sauna, he said, "We'd better go. Evan's probably wondering what the heck happened to me."

Brian nodded his compliance, and followed along as they showered and dressed to leave. Trailing after the younger man, Brian told himself that this was what he'd signed up for. He'd promised Justin that he could deal with the weird vampire stuff, his continued interaction with the blonde contingent upon that very promise. And he'd be damned if he was going to break it. They'd just have to meet each other halfway from this point on.


	23. Chapter 23

The sex had resumed immediately, that much was for certain.

From that evening at the CrossFit gym and onwards, Justin and Brian continued their attempt at a relationship. Their flawed romp in the steam room aside, they had fallen back into their usual routine of sex, sex, and more sex, very easily. It was talking about the important things, the things that either one or both of them didn't want to talk about, that took a bit more effort. Come the next week, Justin still hadn't opened up about L.A., so Brian decided that the best way to get him to share something distasteful, was to use the one tool that always worked for them: sex.

Because after all, what better motivation was there?

He had the blonde's wrists taped together above his head, his eyes blindfolded, and a giddy smile on his lips. The kid was still laughing, not yet having realized what a serious game this was going to turn out to be.

"Brian!" he cackled, "You said you wouldn't blindfold me!"

"Well I guess I'm just a dirty rotten liar then," Brian smoothly replied, coming back up on the bed to straddle his lover's hips. He himself was still scantily clothed in a pair of tight black boxer briefs, not nearly as naked as his willing counterpart. "You look damned good with a blindfold on. It gets me hot."

"Anything gets you hot—"

"Shh! I told you there are rules to this game. Now are you going to listen to how it's played?"

Underneath him, Justin squirmed, "Yes _sir_." His soft member gave the first twitch of interest.

A smirk graced Brian's features, however unseen. "It's not that kind of game Sunshine, as much as I know you would like that." Adjusting himself with the few items he'd placed on the bed, Brian licked his lips in anticipation. Justin was bound to protest when he figured it out. "Can you move?" he asked plainly.

"No." He gave a demonstrative wriggle of his wrists.

"If you really wanted to though. Full-strength…."

"Well, yeah okay I could."

Leaning close, Brian whispered warningly, "Well even if you could, don't. I'm very fond of this bed, and it'll be expensive to replace if you break it."

"…Okay. The game?"

Brian sat back again, satisfied by Justin's surrender to the rule of _not _ripping free of his restraints. "I have several things sitting here next to us. Did you know that?"

Justin shook his head, once-again buzzed short hair scritching against the pillow. "No. What are they?"

Brian picked up the first: an oval-shaped egg that would vibrate when remotely controlled. Using a bit of lube, he trailed the toy over his young lover's flaccid cock. Justin stiffened instinctually at the contact, clearly unsure as to what he was feeling. "This," Brian stated calmly, "is a toy that I'm going to put in you."

"So far so good," Justin quipped.

"It vibrates at different speeds, and I'll be turning it on and off depending on how well you play the game."

"Okay." So far, Justin seemed to be absolutely fine with the precepts for their game.

Reaching forward with some more of the lube coating his fist, Brian gave gentle, coaxing first strokes to the blonde's member. He gave him the attention he needed to grow in his hand, stopping only when he was satisfied that Justin's erection wouldn't easily lag. "I want you to think of this like a quiz," he said again, once he'd released the other man's hardness. "If you answer freely and honestly, you get the toy." At this, he brought his hand down between Justin's legs, maneuvering the small bullet until he could gently press it against his lover's opening. "Here," he offered, and Justin inhaled deeply at the sensation of the toy entering him. "Tighten your muscles like you're squeezing my cock in you," Brian breathed, "It'll draw it in further, where I want it."

Presumably, Justin did as instructed, shifting his hips at the strange intrusion. "So what's the first question?" he asked eagerly, quite sure that this would be a profitable game for him. There was very little that he wouldn't tell Brian openly. The two of them were like two perverted peas in a pod.

"Hold on. There's a flipside to that." Reaching for the next item on the bed, Brian carefully struck a match and let the wick on his candle ignite. "If you decide to be less than forthcoming with your answers, the toy gets turned off and you get a drop of this in the area of my choosing."

"Drop of what?" Justin questioned, even as he could feel the smooth, metallic bottom of an object placed delicately atop his stomach.

"Hot wax."

Brian's answer had Justin tensing, his abdominal muscles forming a taught line so as to keep the small container from wobbling on his body. "H… how hot?" he stammered, cock growing despite the nervous twinge to his voice.

"Hot enough to make you squeal," Brian answered confidently. "But I won't burn you, okay?"

There was something so safe and trustworthy in his lover's voice, that Justin couldn't help but to relax the tiniest bit. "Okay," he agreed tenuously. "So what's the first question?"

Again, Brian grinned unseen. His gorgeous blonde vampire of a boyfriend looked so sinfully tempting, spread out as he was before him. But there were some hard questions coming, so Brian figured he'd give the kid a break and start off easy. "Your first question is… have you ever stolen anything?"

Justin pursed his lips, clearly pleased at such an easy question. "Well yeah," he answered, shrugging as best he could while bound and blindfolded. "I stole stuff when I was in grade school a couple times. Who hasn't?"

"Anything when you were older?"

"…A couple of porn rags from a gas station once."

"How old were you?"

"Jesus Brian, I don't know… fourteen?"

The toy got turned on. Justin didn't make a sound, but his lips did part as his breathing quickened. Leaning down, Brian murmured silkily in his ear, "Calm down Sonnyboy. That was a freebie. Save the outrage for the really hard ones."

"Mmhm," the blonde replied airily, clearly enjoying the light vibrations that the egg was giving off within his body. "This thing is sitting right on my—"

"—I know," Brian interrupted. "All the better to torture you with." He turned the toy off, but gave the other man a firm stroke to ease the loss. "Shh," he comforted at Justin's silent pout. "You can get more. You just have to earn it."

"This is going to be a lot more frustrating than I thought."

Brian brought his hands back to himself, prepared to continue the quiz. "Next question smarty pants. Have you touched yourself recently?"

The young vampire below looked like he might have flushed, if that had been at all possible for him. "…Yes," he answered truthfully. "Of course."

"How?"

"What?"

"I said: how? How do you touch yourself when you're alone?"

Justin gave a confused and evasive smile, and damn if it wasn't sexy as hell with the black blindfold over his face. "Um, Brian, you've seen me masturbate before."

The answer wasn't right apparently, because the blonde could feel the light weight of the metal container lift off of his stomach. "That's not what I asked," the darker man said warningly. "I've never seen you jerk off in private before. Now, if you want to avoid feeling this wax on your skin, you'd better give me a graphic description of your ideal whack off."

Justin swallowed, taking the warning to heart. "Um, well when I'm alone I take all of my clothes off."

"You like to be completely naked?"

A confirming nod of the head, "Yes. I like to um, touch my chest and stomach, then slide my hands down…"

"Go on." By now, Brian knew that Justin would normally have turned bright red from this forced story.

"I'll touch it a little."

"Touch _what?"_

"Jesus Brian, my cock, okay? I'll jack the head a little till I'm hard, and I'll grab my balls with the other hand. And… you know."

"Sorry, but I don't know," Brian chirped in admonition, "And even though you were on the right track with your hot little story, it really seems like you need some encouragement to be a little more forthcoming. So…" he allowed his wrist to tilt ever so slightly, sending the barest trickle of newly-melted wax off the edge of the candle's container, and onto the plane of Justin's chest. It landed just south of his nipple, eliciting a surprised cry from the younger man,

"Ah! Ouch Brian!"

"Exactly. Hurts, doesn't it?" he asked evilly.

"Not as bad as I'd thought."

"Oh ho," Brian leant forward again at the blonde's stubborn front of bravery, warning, "That was a tiny drip baby. Keep at it and you'll get a lot more." Resuming his assertive posture at Justin's hips, he gave his next question without warning. "A.E., did you ever break the rules to our arrangement? And if so, which ones?"

Justin took a moment to process the question, but once he did, it was very obvious through his body language that this question would be a challenge for him as well. He licked his lips, "Yes, I did." He didn't have to ask about what the stipulation of _A.E. _meant. Years ago, Brian had adopted it as his way of discreetly referring to the time period following Justin's affair with the violinist Ethan Gold: _After Ethan. A.E. _Eager to be forthcoming enough to avoid the candle's wax again, he offered, "I slept with that gogo boy you fired. Twice."

"Before or after I fired him?" Brian tried to keep the jealousy out of his voice. It really wasn't that big of a deal. This was just a filler question to work up to what he _really_ wanted to find out.

"Before. Then once you caught him stealing from you, I felt bad for liking his cock enough to do it."

Brian paused, somehow innately happy that the man below him, emotionally bereft as he was, would admit such a thing. He could have made up a far less troublesome lie, after all. Brian flicked the toy onto its second speed as a reward.

"Uhh," Justin grunted in surprised pleasure. Somehow, he'd been expecting the wax for his last answer. "Ooh…"

"Feel good?" Brian asked, even thought it was quite obvious from the blonde's expression that it _did_.

"Uh-huh. Brian?"

"Yeah?"

"How many speeds does this thing have?"

Brian chuckled softly at the keen interest in Justin's voice, his own erection forming beneath his boxer briefs. "Five," he answered, delighting in the hitch of Justin's breathing. Reaching down, he palmed himself through the fabric of the briefs. "You want to get to number five?"

"Yes, please."

"Please won't get you there Princess, answers will." Forcing himself to remove his hand from his own body, Brian resumed control of the device's remote. "Tell you what? I'll just leave this thing on speed one for the rest of the game. You're not going to get off on that, are you?" Justin shook his head, fingers flexing against his bonds as the delicious purr within was reduced to minimal. "Good. Now you need to talk to me about something more serious," Brian said, pausing before the question of, "Have you regained any of your emotions since the accident?"

It was a doozy, and as expected, Justin went completely tense. "Huh?"

"You heard me. You've got five seconds to start answering before I pour." Brian picked up the container, hoping that he wouldn't have to use it before he got an answer. Unfortunately however, Justin seemed to lock up at the question, his thoughts undoubtedly racing as to what he would say. Five seconds passed, and Brian angled the candle over the young man's navel.

"Ahh!" The blonde's body jerked, instinctively trying to escape the pain despite Brian's restricting position above and the restraints holding him in place. He hissed a pained breath between his teeth, and Brian clucked his tongue admonishingly,

"Five more seconds or you get more," he said mercilessly. "Five, four, three, _two_,"

"Okay! Wait," Justin rushed, "I remember a few things now. I do."

Brian instantly retreated the threat of the candle, placing it carefully to the side. His heart wanted to leap from his chest, but he tried not to get his hopes up. "What 'few things'?" he asked carefully.

Hesitating for less than five seconds, Justin admitted quietly, "That first time you saw me in Babylon in the backroom. After you tried to fuck me,"

"And you turned me down," Brian reminded.

"That was when I started to remember some things. Those feelings of obsession over you, they came back."

Any other time, Brian would have smirked and made some cocky comment about being obsessed over, but not then. He felt like he couldn't breathe as he inquired, "Anything else?"

"When you barged into the studio announcing your stupid therapy plan; that's when I got back that safe, calm feeling I used to have around you. It's grown since then."

"You feel safe around me?"

"And comforted. Yeah." Beneath his blindfold, Justin revealed a smile, "It's actually really nice."

"I'll bet. Anything else?" Brian had to force himself not to ask about the L word.

"No." Justin only refrained from mentioning his impromptu dip in the river at the crash site because he knew it would freak Brian the hell out that he'd done that. "Nothing," he reiterated. It was the truth after all; he'd gained nothing more back.

It hadn't been what Brian wanted to hear, but it had been honest. So the toy got turned up again. Brian stroked himself through his underwear as he watched Justin writhe under the second, and then the third speeds on the toy. "You see?" he asked coyly, trying to regain his composure enough to continue the game. "When you cooperate, you get rewarded."

"Brian," was all Justin could manage, clearly wanting more by this point. His hips kept trying to arch needily off the bed. "Brian I don't want to play anymore. Touch me, please." A large, warm hand surrounded his dick, pulling deliciously from base to tip, and because the eager young vampire couldn't see, each sensation was heightened. "Oh, yes. Please."

"You keep saying that," Brian observed. "'Please Brian, please.' But it's not going to get you what you want." His hand continued stroking for another long moment, before it was removed and the toy returned to speed one. Justin gave a whimper at the loss,

"I've been honest," he complained. "What do I have to do for a fucking orgasm?!"

Brian gave him a light slap on the cheek for the impudence. "Not talk back, for a start. And answer my next question."

"Ugh, fine. What?"

"Tell me about L.A." It wasn't so much a question as a command, but the point was clear enough.

"Well, it's this huge city on the west coast where the sun always shines and there's lots of beautiful people," Justin recited. "I hear there's terrible traffic congestion…"

"So clever Justin. Just remember: you asked for this."

The blonde uttered some stifled noise of protest, right before a smattering of hot wax was poured onto his chest. It hit the oversensitized buds of his nipples, and then more made contact with the plane between his hip and groin, coming perilously close to his aching erection. His cries died out as soon as the candle was set back aside, but his labored breaths lingered. "Oh my god," he panted, clearly overwhelmed. "Brian…"

"Tell me about L.A."

Justin swallowed, cowed into compliance. "Brett Keller offered me a job out there. He wants me to paint, to do concept art for movies."

"And?"

"And it's the chance of a lifetime."

Brian sat atop his lover, unsure whether to turn the toy on or not. He didn't really want to. "Are you considering it?" he asked quietly.

"Yes."

"I hate that. Do you hear me? I hate even thinking about the possibility. After all that's happened… the parts that you can remember, and the parts that you can't… I care too damn much about you to let you go so easily."

"I know."

"Then why are you considering it?!" Brian knew he was breaking character, sliding away from the game, but he could hardly stop himself. "Why?" he repeated.

"Because I'm not as invested in this as you are. I'm sorry, but unless I remember everything, how could I be?" Justin answered with complete honesty. "Brian, I… please don't pour the wax," he hurriedly added as he gave the answer that he knew Brian wouldn't want to hear. "Please."

Brian couldn't say he wasn't terribly upset. He'd known this was probably the case. But the reality that Justin would consider moving away for good was downright painful, and he knew he couldn't let it happen. "You think I'll punish you for being honest with me?" he asked instead, steeling his voice away from the sorrowful tone it might otherwise have carried. His hand came forward to stroke the younger man again. "That's not how the game works, Sunshine." And despite the horrible answer Justin had had for his last question, Brian reached for the remote to the toy.

"Ughhn," Justin's moan was loud and uncontrolled, his hip trying to shoot off the bed harder than before. It made no difference, however, because Brian was there to hold him down as he rode out the waves of pleasure brought upon by the toy inside him pulsing at speed four.

"You going to come?" Brian asked, speaking into Justin's ear to be sure he was heard.

The kid panted before he could bring himself to answer, his hips trying desperately to rub up against any part of the other man. "I want it Brian. Let me."

He was close. That much the older man knew. But he also knew that there was one last question he wanted answered before he relented and lost all available leverage. The toy was turned down to speed one.

"No!"

"Shhh," Brian petted soothingly at Justin's neck, cupping his gorgeous, agonized face in his palm. "One more Princess."

"Don't call me that!"

"Don't be rude and you'll get to come."

"I want it Brian. Come on, please…" If Brian hadn't ended things after his last response, then Justin figured he could win this game after all. "Brian, please let me come."

"If you mean that then you'll answer this last question." Brian eyed the candle that sat to the side with trepidation. He didn't want to have to use it again. He was so beyond that now. "When are you going to move back in here with me?" Brian hated how needy the words sounded coming from his own lips, but the truth was that he _was _needy. He needed Justin back in his life like a cool drink of water after a year of being parched. He needed him to an extent that he would _never_ admit. He certainly needed him more than Justin needed to come, though from the looks of things, the blonde vampire would have argued that point. And he definitely needed Justin here more than Justin needed to be in L.A. So with all the self-control in the world, Brian asked again, "How about it Sunshine? When are you coming home?"

"I don't… I don't know."

"Try harder." Justin was trembling, and it seemed up in the air as to whether it was from how strung out the game had gotten him, or from the questions themselves. Brian reached to touch him again, giving the kid coaxing pleasure even though he'd not yet answered the question. "Come on Justin. What's holding you back?" The double entendre seemed lost on the straining blonde, but he did manage to answer,

"I don't know if I can let you have me that much yet. What if things don't go right and I can't remember?" Justin was terrified he'd stagnate, and have committed to Brian for nothing. A man he hardly knew anymore. "What if…"

"Staying away isn't going to protect you from reality. You have to face that no matter where you are." Brian turned the toy up halfway, letting Justin feel the increasing intensity before he asked the hardest question of all, "Do you _want_ to remember?"

Full lips—lips that Brian had spent the better part of four years fantasizing over—parted, and the older man found himself desperately wanting to remove the blindfold so that he could view those iceberg eyes too. He repeated his question, and couldn't bring himself to reach for the wax as Justin took at least six full seconds to answer him. "…I never thought you'd ask that," the blonde answered finally. "After everything that's happened, I thought you knew: I want to remember everything. I want to love you again."

Brian didn't bother suppressing the relived look on his face, nor the vulnerable smile that erupted after. Because Justin could see neither. Leaning forward to speak into the younger man's ear, he murmured fondly, "Good answer." He turned the vibration up to five, and watched as Justin fell apart.

"Pecs night at Woody's, here we come!"

Emmett, Michael, Ben, and Brian stood poised outside the rhino-emblazoned establishment that was hosting that Friday night's token contest. Michael gave the excited Emmett a look and commented, "Yay. Yet another thrilling way to objectify men and reaffirm the superficiality of gay life."

"You can save your pious talk, when you've got _him _wrapped around your arm," Emmett countered haughtily. Fixing a high eyebrow on the buff form of Ben.

"Yeah," Brian agreed. "Say Professor: you aren't competing this year are you? That chest on the promotional poster looks awfully familiar."

"Ha ha. No," Michael answered for his husband, with Ben lending a bashful smile. "Come on," he urged, "Let's get inside and start judging people based on their looks. It's too cold out here!"

The inside of Woody's was hopelessly crowded. Emmett and Michael had just begun to sulk at the lack of available seating, when Justin spotted them from the bar. "Hey guys, over here!"

"Oh, well there he is."

"Yes Emmett, there he is." Brian gave everybody in the group a warning look. "You knew this was coming. So. play. nice."

"You know he's still our friend too."

"Yeah, we're not total ignoramuses."

Justin had snagged a barstool, the three nearest him unclaimed due to proximity. Emmett was quick to sit, as was Michael, but Ben lingered, "Uh, Brian?" he asked, clearly offering the man a seat next to Justin.

"Thanks professor, but I'll just find a way to… wiggle in here." He'd slid to stand between the blonde vampire's parted legs, "Thanks for saving me a seat," he murmured, before closing in to claim a kiss. Or really, a series of kisses. The rest of the gang sat by and watched as the two made out the same as always.

"Our little hornbirds," Emmett observed. "Same old same old."

"Some things never change."

"Oh my god! You guys the contest is about to start!" Emmett sat up straighter in his seat, straining to get a good view as the contestants were led up onto the temporary stage that'd been erected. "Mmm, number seven is yummy!"

Having turned around in Justin's arms, Brian asked the blonde over his shoulder, "What do you think of this year's crop?"

"I think _lean_ came back in this year," Justin remarked critically. "But… number five?"

Brian gave it some consideration. "Number six."

"Five plus six does equal eleven."

Brian wrinkled his brow, "What's that got to do with anything?" There wasn't even a number eleven contestant. But Justin could be felt laughing from behind,

"Nothing Brian. Number six is fine."

"You want him?"

"I want number five."

"Oh my god, the two of you!" Michael grinned over at his best friend and the young man who'd entered their lives and never left. Somehow, all it took was a stupid contest at Woody's and Brian and Justin planning their fucks again, and everything felt just as it always had. Michael shook his head at them with a grin. Maybe this would be as simple as Brian and that vampire Aiden had said.

"Back to normal," Ben whispered with humor in his ear. "Told you everything would work out."

"Yeah," Michael agreed, settling into his wise husband's arms. "Just like old times."

"Just, like, …old times, huh Sunshine?" Brian asked over the back of his conquest. Number six, as it turned out, was an excellent fuck.

From behind number five, Justin grinned. "Who would've thought he was a bottom?"

"For you?" Brian chuckled even as the pleasure of the tight ass within which was buried had him grimacing in pleasure. "I think you underestimate yourself. A lot of guys would roll over for you."

Justin drew his hips back again, thrusting steadily into number five's well-formed backside. "Yeah, including you."

"I'm not acknowledging that."

Justin could only cackle. Brian didn't exactly like to discuss how he'd bottomed for the blonde "twink" several times in the past. It was never something they planned, but _had _happened. And everybody knew that Brian Kinney didn't do things that he didn't like. He certainly didn't repeat them. "Whatever you… say," Justin replied, nearly choking out the last words at the building pleasure of their hectic foursome.

They were in the men's room at Woody's, the judging for pecs night well over. Number Five and number Six had been judged to be a couple of big, hunky losers, so Brian and Justin had eagerly proposed to cheer them up. So far, nobody had knocked on the locked bathroom door, but it was only a matter of time before their little romp in the restroom annoyed somebody. "Fuck," Brian cursed, grabbing onto his trick's hips even tighter as he got close. He caught the man's gaze in the bathroom mirror as he fucked him over the counter, Justin one sink over. "That's right," he growled. "Watch it."

Number Six grinned, turning his head to stare over at the other couple. "What about him?"

"Watch him too," Brian conceded, "I certainly do."

Over the back of his own trick, Justin wasn't returning the gaze. He'd gotten faster and more frenzied, his hands running possessively over the naked back of his trick. Number Five didn't seem to have any complaints, if the sounds he was making were anything to go by. But as Brian and his trick watched, something could be seen changing in the blonde's demeanor. Brian wasn't sure if Five or Six noticed it, but he could tell.

Justin's electric blue eyes stopped perusing the expanse of Six's body, stopped glazing over in lust and started zeroing in on a particular part of his neck. He looked… _hungry. _It was as if once he spotted the throbbing vein, he couldn't look away. Once again, it was like watching a frantic animal, trapped just under the skin. Justin knew that he could get at it, if he wanted.

Brian watched in worried fascination as Justin clearly ogled Five's jugular. Something about the predatory glint in the younger man's eye, coupled with the flex of his ass as he continued to thrust, both excited and terrified the darer man. His stomach felt in knots as he watched it, completely unsure of what to do, if anything. Justin looked hot as hell and downright dangerous.

Eventually, Justin caught his eye, and something about the way his features morphed showed that he knew exactly what Brian had observed. For a second he looked guilty, as if he'd been caught doing something bad. But then he seemed to push that guilt away, and simply went back to fucking, and drooling over, his trick. And when he groaned and his sharp teeth showed, Brian's heart thrilled at the sight, though whether that was a good thing or not, he couldn't quite decide. Brian couldn't reconcile his lust with the danger.

He forced himself to pull his eyes away before he came.

"Do you want to go out tonight?"

Justin glanced over from where he was working. "Are you up for it?"

Brian snorted. "Sunshine, you may be all undead and everything now—"

"—I'm _not _dead, un or otherwise."

"But we piddly little humans can still keep up," Brian finished as if there had been no interruption at all. "So I'm a little bruised? So what? It'll heal." He shrugged, trying very hard not to display his injured vanity. "Maybe not in the thirty second span of a _Tropica _yogurt commercial, like you. But still: I'll be fine. You just need to be a little less possessive with the food you cook. It's not like you can eat it anyways."

"Thanks for reminding me."

The night before, Brian had been trying to wrestle a small taste of the dinner that Justin was cooking away from the pot, but the blonde had battled him, accidently shoving him a little too roughly into the concrete of the loft's countertop. The evidence was currently imprinted on his sore ribcage. "Who knew a little coq au vin could get a vampire so worked up?"

Justin chuckled from his stance at his studio's lightbox. Pushing aside the nearest copy of what could soon be his token audition piece for a concept artist position at Lucasfilms, he walked over to Join Brian on the sofa. "I saw that commercial."

"What?"

"Your commercial for that yogurt you're always complaining about. Pretty sexy stuff."

"Sex sells."

"I still can't believe that you of all people used straight sex to sell something."

Brian shrugged. "What can I say: straight women love yogurt. So, we're going out?"

"Sure. Babylon?"

"You know I think I just might be able to get us in."

Justin only smiled. Of course both men knew that Brian owned the club. Their constant access to the VIP lounge and free drinks were evidence enough of that. "Just let me change. I'll only be a minute."

Brian waited and watched as the blonde made quick work of donning a more suitable outfit. Sitting there twiddling his finders, he grew brave enough to ask, "Do you ah, need to eat before we leave?" He and Justin rarely saw each other before the hour of eight pm, which had until then been enough time for the younger man to take care of whatever feeding habits he saw fit to follow. Brian had promised not to harangue him over such details, after all.

Justin looked his way, seemingly nonchalant. "No, I can take care of it while we're at Babylon."

Brian tried very, very hard to contain the disapproving wince that wanted to come, simply shrugging, "Whatever." He really didn't like that Justin still fed from humans. But again: he'd promised.

"Ready to go?"

Brian looked up, enjoying what he saw. "You know: Emmett really does need to stop supplying you with such slutty clothes."

Justin only grinned.


	24. Chapter 24

At the bar in Babylon, three grown men sat awkwardly and tried to make conversation with the dark-haired vampire who'd made an unexpected arrival.

"So… What do you do Evan?" this from a hopefully cheerful Emmett, who by now had stolen enough sips from Ted's fruity cocktail to offer a bit of friendly outreach. "I mean, besides from being a vampire of course."

Ted and Michael just continued to sit there, looking uncomfortable. Evan looked like he didn't know quite what to make of Emmett's attempts at conversation. "Um, I've been working at the liberty diner for a while."

"But I've never seen you there."

"I work nights."

Emmett laughed embarrassedly. "Oh right! Haha of course."

"So you and Justin must be getting along quite well," this from Ted. "We saw you two at the gym last week. You're quite the runner!"

"I broke the treadmill," Evan deadpanned, apparently not any more talented at making small talk than the humans around him.

"…Oh. I see. Well that's… too bad."

And silence resumed once again.

"Where the hell did Brian go anyways?" Michael was querying to anyone who wanted to answer. "And where's Justin?"

"Ah, backroom, and bathroom, respectively. I believe."

"Oh."

Just as Ted, Michael, and even Emmett were losing hope of ever escaping their awkward foursome, Brian returned from whatever (or whoever) he'd been doing in the backroom. He didn't look too pleased to see the wiry frame of the vampire with his friends, however. "Evan," he greeted coldly as he sidled up to the group. "Fancy seeing you here. Justin said you were working tonight."

"It's really slow," Evan responded smoothly, very much attuned to the dislike that was practically dripping from the older man. "So I came to chill with Justin."

Brian snorted at the vampire's use of the word "chill." It was so juvenile he could have puked. "Don't you have any other friends?" he asked pointedly.

"Brian!" Ted hissed. "Christ."

"Ah, Evan had just been telling us about how vampires sleep," Michael offered, trying to both lift the spirit of the conversation _and _sound sensitive about vampire-related stuff. "It sounds kind of like how Ben describes certain types of meditation. Has Justin told you about it Bri?"

Brian shot sharp eyes over at his best friend for encouraging any degree of interaction with the vampire before him. "No," he replied, disinterested. "Justin can't do that yet. Besides, who cares how vampires sleep? I'd personally give a finger… no maybe a toe, to gain all those extra hours of productivity."

"You're not interested in something that is so important to him?" Evan quickly inserted, challenging Brian's dismissiveness with his own. "He's been trying to master waking state every day. I'd have thought you'd care about something like that. Some boyfriend you are."

"Yeah well, time is money and I run two businesses. Besides, I don't need to know all of his shit. _I _allow him some space. Maybe you should too."

Evan's eyes narrowed, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Just then, Justin returned to their circle of conversation. He moved to kiss Brian, a gesture which the older man took full-advantage of. Brian eyed the wiry vampire over Justin's shoulder as they ended what he had purposefully turned into a rather drawn-out kiss. "Jeeze Brian, I was only gone for a few minutes!" Justin laughed as he turned around. "Was that guy you took into the back that bad?" Fully facing the group again, the blonde looked surprised. "Evan. Hey what are you doing here? I thought you had to work?"

"Not anymore."

"Oh." Justin shrugged. "Did you meet everybody?"

"Oh, we've been chatting nonstop," Michael said sarcastically.

"Good!" Brian interjected. "I'm sure you gentlemen can keep him entertained long enough for us to have a dance then?"

"Uh…"

"Great. I'll leave you all to it." Brian didn't wait long enough to give anyone a chance to protest. Before anyone could blink, he'd pulled Justin onto the dance floor, away from the others. "I couldn't wait to get you to myself," he told the younger man as they picked up the beat that was playing.

"Really?" Justin grinned. "To yourself, or just away from Evan?"

"Looks like I've achieved both!" Brian half-shouted back to be heard over the thrumming music. "It's a win-win."

"I don't get you!"

"What?!" Brian turned Justin in his arms, bringing their bodies closer until they were aligned back to front.

"I said: I don't get you!" Justin repeated. "You've been trying so hard to accept me, yet you don't give him an inch. Why not?"

"I'm not fucking him," Brian cowed. "And he creeps me out. Don't you think he seems a little too attached to you?"

"He's my friend. You should try harder to be nice."

"Now, Sunshine. When have you ever known me to be nice?"

Justin looked back over his shoulder at the darker man. The man who was so thoroughly in his thoughts lately. "You're jealous. Admit it."

Brian scowled. "To use one of Debbie's phrases: Jealously doesn't fit me well, so I try not to wear it."

"Oh, you're wearing it alright."

Strong hands took hold of Justin where the bottom of his shirt met the waistband of his jeans. Thumbs slipping under to run along cool skin, Brian instructed, "No more talking about Evan," he instructed. It still drove him nuts at how similar the creeper's name was to _Ethan_, but he'd never say that out loud to Justin. "I'm going to show you how to fuck on the dance floor, so pay attention."

"That's bound to draw some stares."

Brian chuckled. "The dance version, princess."

"Ugh, don't call me princess."

Brian moved his hips, his hands guiding Justin's body along in the following motion. And even without looking, Justin could instantly tell that Brian hadn't lied; it _was _going to be just like fucking. When he asked what dance style it was called, Brian only laughed like he'd said something funny.

"So this is V," Justin was explaining to his on-again boyfriend sometime later at the bar. He'd laid the little red pill out where Brian could see.

"Not so scary looking." Brian picked the pill up delicately, examining it as if he could tell anything more by having the thing in his hand. "But it would kill me?"

"Probably you and another full-grown human man." Justin shrugged. "It's very potent. But for us it's just enough dosage to get us high."

"You have to trust your dealer. Know what's in your shit. I thought I taught you that."

"Evan knows," Justin defended with reproachful eyes, fingers swiping the pill back. "He doesn't get anything cut with crap or anything like that."

"He seems unstable," Brian mumbled, reaching to take another sip of his beer. "I don't trust him."

"You don't have to," Justin insisted, trying to draw the conversation away from Brian's obvious dislike of his roommate, and back to the topic at hand. "And this…" Justin withdrew a thumb-sized bottle from his pocket, "is GHB."

"That one I recognize," Brian confirmed. "Good old liquid X."

Justin nodded. "For vampires, it's instant alcohol." Motioning for the bartender, the blonde ordered a diet soda. "Here," he demonstrated once the drink was delivered. The bottle's lid produced an eyedropper, from which Justin loosed exactly five drops of the clear liquid into his glass. "No taste, no smell, no calories."

Brian gave a winning smile, "Hey! What do you know? Always knew that silly date rape drug had to be good for something else."

"Some of us don't burn off tequila the way we used too. I'll take what I can get." Making his point, Justin raised what still very much looked like a diet cola to his lips, and drank. "Instant booze," he reconfirmed.

"Just be careful."

"Yes mother."

"Ah, ah!" Brian caught him in a reprimanding kiss, releasing the young vampire only to order his own alcohol-laden beverage. "Funny. Of the two of us, I always thought I'd be the first victim of a slowing metabolism."

"Glad I could make you feel youthful for once," Justin replied dryly, but not without a hint of a smirk on his lips. Brian always had been obsessed with youth and beauty. It was a wonder he'd ever managed to sleep with someone so far his junior. Again, the blonde secretly thought that vampirism would've suited the darker man perfectly, were it not for his bias towards the condition. Catching sight of Evan approaching from farther down the bar, Justin was able to subtly nudge his lover in the side.

"Ouch! _Bruised, _remember?!"

"Sorry, but _be nice_," was all the warning Justin managed to get out, before the other vampire had joined them. "Hey," Justin welcomed his friend, Brian suddenly much more interested in his drink.

"Hello hello!" Evan beamed, his demeanor much more buoyant than the last time they'd crossed paths.

"You high?"

"Yup!" Evan grinned, while Brian scowled.

_Christ, _he thought, chancing a contemptuous glance up at the vampire. _Could he be any more of a bad influence? _Brian failed to notice the hypocrisyof his own thoughts, choosing to remain silent as Evan chatted up Justin, stealing his attention away. Brian watched as they talked about whatever over the blaring music, wondering what the heck the kid saw in this guy. Evan was a scrawny, twitchy man who had nothing to offer Justin. Brian could offer him _everything. _Well… except understanding perhaps. Brian knew that was what drew his lover to the other man. Justin liked the undead camaraderie that Evan offered; that Evan could _understand _what he was going through.

The frustrated man blew an annoyed breath across the surface of his drink. _Whatever, _he dismissed. He was working on the whole "understanding" thing. Soon he'd have that down as well, and then Justin would lose interest in the twerpy vampire for good. Then things could go back to the way they were supposed to be.

"Come on!" Evan had stood from the bar, suddenly delighted at the music and cajoling Justin to join. "Let's dance!"

Justin, having downed most of his diet coke and GHB, seemed amenable to the suggestion, quickly abandoning his barstool. He didn't notice Brian's lips parted in silent protest, as he was urged into the writing throng of bodies that littered the dance floor. Brian allowed them to go, if only to restrain himself from truly displaying how jealous he was of the other man. Justin would come back soon, and until then… His eyes slid sideways, taking notice of a delectable brunette a few feet down the bar. Until then, Brian knew he could find some way to entertain himself.

Hours later, Brian was standing with Justin in the entry room to the club, watching helplessly as the blonde shrugged on his jacket. "I don't want you to go," he said lowly. Evan had disappeared towards the coat check, sure to return any moment.

"I have to!" Justin was arguing with him, sounding genuinely pissed off. "Since we're obviously not welcome here!"

Brian had to physically stop him to get the younger man to listen. "I never said that."

"Take your hands off me Brian."

"I want you here," he insisted.

"Just not my friends. Or anyone like me." Justin scowled, pulling himself a step away from the larger man. "But I guess since I'm fucking the boss I get to be the exception."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Brian huffed angrily. "You just can't eat people in the backroom. No one's going to want to fuck back there if you do." He'd caught Justin and the creepy little prick, about to bite into a groupie in the backroom. Brian might have even stayed out of it and simply watched, like the first time, if not for the impetus of several disgruntled patrons who'd made their fears known. "It freaks them out to see that happening right in front of them."

"We weren't hurting anybody!"

Brian disagreed, saying, "You would have."

"Not anybody that didn't want it! Jesus Brian. That's like rape! We're no more likely to go feeding off guys who don't want it than we are to fuck anybody that doesn't want to."

"Yeah well some people don't expect vampires to make that distinction. I have to make sure my customers feel safe. Otherwise I lose money."

"Yeah, 'eight grand a night'. I know." Justin looked hurt, despite the fact that he knew Brian had a point. But it had been downright embarrassing to be seen pulled out of the backroom by his very own boyfriend. "Well you have to think about your money, and I have to think about myself. I'm hungry, and I'm going to go somewhere that I can actually get what I need."

A frown marred Brian's face, unsure if there was supposed to be a deeper meaning to the blonde's statement or not. "I asked you if you needed to eat before we left," he hissed, well-aware that there were other people around them and so trying to keep their conversation private.

"And I told _you _that I could take care of it while we were out." Justin shook his head angrily. "Or at least, I _thought _I could."

"So you're just going to leave?" Brian fumed, in very un-Kinney fashion. "With him?"

"Yes with him." Justin glanced warily over to where Evan was retuning with his coat, and a potential meal. "Sorry to make trouble at your club," he finished, turning to leave out the front with his roommate and their third party. "I won't do it again."

Brian watched them go, a niggling feeling that he'd seriously backslid on all of their progress worming its way into his brain. "Shit," he cursed.

Belatedly, Michael approached to stand at Brian's side, venturing, "I guess he didn't take it very well?"

"He's fucking leaving, so what do you think?"

"No need to be nasty."

Brian shook his head, arms crossed as if to shield himself. "I make one little remark about something and he flips his lid." And then, with much less confidence in his voice, he asked, "…Where do you think they're going?"

"Beats me," Michael shrugged, the image of _Rage_ on his tee-shirt shifting with him. "Where do vampires go in Pittsburgh for a good time?"

Something about that caught the club owner's interest. "You know Mikey, that's a good question." Eyes still burning on the spot where Justin and Evan had disappeared, he muttered, "I might just have to find out."


	25. Chapter 25

Brian slid the door to his loft open, uttered "Oh, hell no," and tried to slide it shut again the second he saw who was standing on the other side. It was to no avail, however. Like her son, Jennifer Taylor was small and very fast.

"Nice to see you too Brian." The woman had set her purse down, approaching the dining table as if she would sit. "You even made dinner. How thoughtful."

"Jennifer," Brian tried to say in his most serious voice. The attempt was somewhat hampered by his half-dressed state. "I know you know that food isn't for you."

She was carefully examining the reheated stroganoff as if it had something written on it. "Justin made this."

"…Yes. For _me._" Brian padded up to the bedroom, hurriedly finding a shirt to wear. "What are you doing here?" The woman lived in Arizona for Christ's sake. This was one catastrophe he hadn't counted on having to deal with. "I thought we went over this?"

"I told you I was planning a long weekend." She shrugged, "Well that was months ago. Don't you think it's about time I see my son again?"

"No." Brian shook his head as he approached. "He's not the same now. I told you that." Glancing nervously at the door, he hoped that the kid wouldn't walk in right that moment.

"You also told me he wasn't living with you anymore."

"He's not!"

"Yet he's here frequently enough to cook you dinner Monday through Friday?" She'd opened the fridge to view an organized assortment of Tupperware. With labels. "Or are you going to try and claim that you made my mother's jambalaya?"

An irritated snarl marked the provocative man's lips. "This is really bad timing. You don't even understand."

"Explain it to me while I eat." She'd taken up a plate and served herself a helping of Brian's dinner already. "It was a long flight."

Resignedly, Brian slogged over to join the stubborn woman at the table. "We've been trying to be together again," he explained. "But he's been on my case about 'accepting him for who he is'. And we hit a few road bumps."

"You're not being accepting?" Jennifer set down her fork, ready to be incensed. "Justin didn't _choose _this you know."

"Oh eat your noodles and calm down. I'm doing my best. You don't know half the weirdness I have to deal with these days." Brian frowned, glancing anxiously to the door yet again. "You really do have some kind of timing though. I shot my mouth off about him getting reacquainted with people again the other day. He didn't want to hear it. He felt pressured just at my suggestion that he visit Daphne, or even call you and Molly. He's going to think I went behind his back if he walks in here and sees you."

"Oh Brian, I'm sure it'll be fine. I'm his mother after all. Maybe you're making this into a bigger deal than it really is."

The brunette had only a split second to shoot her a withering glare, before the metallic drag of the door could be heard. Brian tried to concentrate on the beef stroganoff as he listened to the sounds of Justin shrugging off his sneakers, still oblivious.

"You would not believe how hard it was to find a RedBox that wasn't sold out of Dallas Buyer's Club!" he was announcing from the entrance. "I had to go to _three _grocery stores before I lucked out."

"That's… too bad," Brian said tensely, still waiting for the second when the shit would hit the fan.

"Yeah I know. It's like you nominate something for Best Picture and suddenly everyone who couldn't give a shit about film suddenly has to watch… it." The blonde's sentence petered off as he finally saw who was sitting at the dining table.

"Yeah. Just like you," Brian muttered. Not that he was incredibly enthusiastic about watching a bunch of drug dealers die from AIDs, or whatever the heck the movie was supposed to be about. Brian forked at his noodles, not very hungry. "Your mother's here."

"I can see that."

Something hollow and plastic rattled, and Brian could tell it was the DVD being abandoned on his desk. "Well aren't you going to say hello?"

Soft steps sounded, and Justin arrived in the darker man's peripheral vision. He seemed hesitant to take a seat with them. "Hi mom."

"Justin," she whispered. She looked as if she could hardly believe the sight in front of her. "Look at you."

"Brian, why is she—"

"—Oh Justin." Brian inwardly cringed as Jennifer lost her composure far too quickly, interrupting her son to gush, "I can't believe it. You can't know how happy I am to see you…" Her voice broke as tears leaked out, "St… standing there… alive…" her fork clattered to her plate as she brought both hands up to cover her mouth. "Sweetie!"

She pushed her chair back to stand, but the motion had Justin drawing back a step, his eyes alarmed as if in fear. "Justin?" Jennifer sounded confused at the reaction. "Sweetie what's wrong? Can't I… can't I have a hug? There's so much I want to talk to you about." She smiled despite herself, joy at seeing her son alive for the first time since the accident taking over her features. "Your sister is going to be so excited to hear from you—"

"Molly?" Justin sounded downright intimidated. "Molly's not here is she?"

"No. But Justin oh we've both missed you so much. Oh forget this stupid food," she abandoned her plate hastily, "though honey I have to tell you: you haven't lost your touch with cooking. Come over here to the couch and tell me about how you're doing!"

She was all excitement. All glee and joy at seeing her son alive again. But in her relief, she forgot that she wasn't dealing with the Sunshine version of Justin that she'd known so well. She forgot that she was supposed to be offering him space. She forgot… that he'd forgotten. And when the silent young vampire jerked away from her touch as if she were a stranger, Jennifer could only stare in shocked disbelief. "Justin? Honey what's wrong?"

"He's got fucking memory loss, I _told _you," Brian reprimanded, standing from his own chair to face them. "I told you not to assume—"

"I just thought… I mean I know you said that he was having trouble but I'm his _mother._"

Shocked blue eyes glazed over in confusion, and then understanding as Justin listened to his boyfriend and mother speaking back and forth about him so familiarly. "…I can't believe this." Brian glanced over to see Justin, where he'd retreated to the far side of the kitchen counter like some ruffled animal. "You told her… you _told _her?! And now she's here in some sort of messed up ambush? I didn't even know you were talking to her!"

"Justin I can explain."

"You told me you'd try!"

Brian's eyes darkened to dead timber, his jaw tightening. "I am trying."

"But you've been talking to her? Telling her everything?" Justin was fuming, his scared silence from a moment earlier channeled into the attack. "Inviting her here?"

"I didn't."

The blonde snorted in disgust. "Don't lie to me! It's pathetic. Do you think I believe that she flew from Arizona after three months? And after what you spouted off to me yesterday about reconnecting? That's some coincidence Brian." Glancing over to his mother, who was looking hurt and baffled at this breakdown, he felt a surge of overwhelming guilt sweep through him. Guilt that he couldn't manage a single ounce of emotion for even his own _mother_; that he couldn't be the person he was supposed to be.He couldn't face the expectation that weighed down on him. Squeezing his eyes shut to avoid seeing her hurt face, he addressed Brian angrily, "I can't believe you would go behind my back like this. Who else have you talked to like this?"

"No one," Brian insisted, realizing belatedly that his answer made him sound that much guiltier. "Justin I didn't mean for this to happen."

"I'm sure you didn't!" Justin had opened his eyes again, but this time the sorrowful, frightened blue had hardened into unforgiving steel. "I thought I could trust you."

Brian's lips parted in shock as he watched the kid hurry over to start lacing up his shoes. "You _can_ trust me," he insisted, rushing past Jennifer's form to head off the furious vampire by the door. "You can't just leave!" he protested. "She's your mother. Sit down and talk to her."

"I thought you'd respect my needs. And my boundaries. I. can't. handle. this."

"You have to eventually," Brian coaxed, aware that short of physically fighting him, he was going to be hard-pressed to keep Justin in the loft.

"Not tonight I can't." Glancing awkwardly over to where his mother still stood fretting, he said lowly, " I don't expect you to rise so high as to admit that what you did was wrong, but at least try and explain to _her_ why this is your fuck up, not mine."

Brian was unable to stop him at the door, and blocking the stairwell didn't work either because Justin seemed more than willing to wait for the elevator. "Where are you going?" he asked impatiently as the blond pulled down the wooden grate to separate their faces. The plan had been for Justin to spend the night.

"Where do you think? Evan was right about this. We shouldn't have kept forcing something that isn't going to work."

"That's bullshit. You can't just give up like that. You haven't even let me—"

"Goodbye Brian."

Brian watched angrily as the lift lowered, taking his lover out of view. He couldn't think of a worse thing for Justin to have said. "Fuck!" he kicked the wall, ignoring the pain to his foot. How could this have gone any worse? Justin was storming away as he stood there, and the exact thing that he'd warned Jennifer would happen, had fucking happened. Stupid. fucking. mother in laws.

When said woman finally ventured out to check on him, Brian was forced to calm her down and assure her that _no, of course none of this was her fault. That Justin just needed a little more time._ She took his bullshit to heart and retired to whatever hotel she'd decided to book for the next three days, and Brian was left to clean up the mess. Only problem was: he wasn't so sure he could this time.

Three hours, half a bottle of Johnnie Walker, and some extensive internet searching later, Brian had come up with the best, most mediocre plan that he could in his befuddled state. He stumbled into bed sometime around one, his laptop left open to the _Yelp _review webpage for a certain Pittsburgh establishment, called _Thrall_.

Yellow.

Pink.

Blue.

Brian.

Justin's fingers were stained those colors, his mind stained with the name. He sat before his easel in the studio as the sky faded from blue, to grey, to black. The pastel crayons within his hands transmuted the stain in his mind to the one on the paper, erasing the name, pigment by pigment. Days later, and the same thoughts still flitted through his mind. Angry ones and sorrowful too. _How could Brian have betrayed him like that? How could his mother ever understand the lack of love in her own son's eyes? How could he ever reconcile with either of them now? _Justin forced the tears away when they wanted to come. He would not cry. He wouldn't allow himself the pleasure of self-pity.

In the kitchen, Evan watched restlessly, clearly attuned to his friend's disquiet. "I don't get why you're still working so furiously away on that thing if it's over between the two of you."

"I have to finish it. I have to get it out of my mind," the blonde vehemently insisted. He'd never abandoned a project before, and he wasn't about to start then. "Once I finish it I can just move on." He filled in a little more detail.

Evan paced, having thought the two of them could go out for once now that the other man's devoted human had finally been removed from the picture. But his roommate still seemed to be hanging on… Evan shot an annoyed glance to where Justin sat hunched over his artwork. "Finish it later then. I want to take you out, show you the clubs we've been meaning to go to. Now we can actually have some fun, be ourselves! Now that he finally left."

"I left him."

"All the better!" The darker vampire leant forward across the minimal kitchen counter. "I told you it couldn't work. He was fooling himself. Just look at what he ended up doing."

"You were right," Justin muttered, knowing that it was what Evan wanted to hear. He just wished the other vampire wouldn't act so damned triumphant about it. Evan didn't know a damned thing about he and Brian, going around acting as if their break up was a measure of relief. Justin certainly didn't feel relieved. He felt like he was mourning something. For someone to whom he'd lost all emotional connection, the loss of the older man certainly was turning out to be hard. "We were just fooling ourselves," Justin recited dully.

"It happens to everybody."

"Besides, I wasn't regaining any of my feelings back for him. There comes a point when you have to admit that something isn't working, and move on."

"Exactly."

"Which is why I've decided to accept the offer."

"Huh?" Evan paused in his cheerleading, confused. "What offer?"

"Brett's offer." Pale blue eyes left the canvas to meet stark brown ones. "I got the job, Evan. LucasFilms asked if they should arrange for my plane ticket, and I said yes."

For a moment it seemed that Evan didn't know quite what to say, but the moment passed, and he began spouting of about how California was a land of shallow degenerates who would chew him up and spit him out. Justin had heard it all before, so he simply sat there and waited until the worst had passed. "Look, I really don't want to fight about this."

"You can't go!" Evan was nearly exploding, "What the hell am I supposed to do?!"

Justin shrugged. "Go on as usual. You can get another roommate or—"

"Oh that's rich," Evan guffawed. "Who in their right mind is going to want to room with me?" When Justin had no good answer, the wiry man elaborated, "No one, that's who. Jesus Justin if you leave, I might as well go back to the home."

Justin set his oils down, fixing his roommate with a stern look. "You don't have to do that. You've come so far to go back there. We both have."

"Then don't leave me!" Evan implored. "After all I've showed you, and helped you with? How can you just leave?"

A swirl of guilt settled into Justin's stomach, planted by his own thoughts and cemented by Evan's stare. He felt guilt that he could leave Evan after all they'd shared, but he also felt guilt that some part of him _wanted _to leave Evan behind. Aiden had always warned him that the wiry vampire liked to attach himself to people. Maybe that was just something that Justin had refused to see…

"Please," Evan was saying, not having given up his implorations for the night. The older vampire was desperate, but he could tell that Justin was on the verge of making a rash decision. Knowing that he'd have to play his cards absolutely perfectly if he wanted to keep Justin, Evan tried a gentler approach. "Let's go out," he compromised. "Like we always said we would. Justin if you want to go to L.A. and see the stuff they've got out there, then fine. I can't stop you. But you're going to need a starter course, trust me. So forget about the painting for now, get dressed, and let me show you what our world really can be all about."

The change in the other man's demeanor had Justin considering his words. The offer was tempting, that much was for sure. Ever since they'd acclimated to their new apartment, Evan had been trying to coax Justin to some of the more vampire-oriented locales within the city. He'd mainly shied away until then because of Brian. Justin had wanted to avoid falling too deep into the separated world in which some vampires—the vampires that Evan always talked about, always idolized—existed.

There was one club in particular, he knew, that his roommate talked about. It was the Babylon for the undead, or something akin to that, and it was where Evan next proposed they go. Justin gave it some consideration, and if nothing more than for the disastrous upset he'd caused by announcing his intentions regarding L.A., the young artist soon found himself agreeing to an evening out on the town, vampire style.

They were going to _Thrall._

Evan was just glad he was able to talk the other vampire into it. He knew he'd have to get Justin in deeper, hook him somehow, or else he'd lose him for good. Time was running out.


	26. Chapter 26

_Thrall _was not like Babylon. It didn't take Justin long at all to figure out that much. Glancing around as they entered, the blonde tried to squash the niggling doubt as to why the hell he was in such a place. If he was honest with himself, he knew exactly why he was there: to learn who he truly was.

He'd become depressed since ending things with Brian. And Evan had had plenty of opportunity to reinforce the voice in his mind that said Justin had never had a chance at getting his old life back again. He and Evan? They were different. Feared, hated, strange, second class citizens. Vampires. Doomed yet somehow blessed to live a requisite 'alternative' lifestyle for the rest of their immortal days. Justin let himself indulge the concept, finally starting to believe that he could reimagine himself the way that Evan wanted him to. He'd even let Evan convince him to throw away the letters his loved ones had written him all those months ago. They weren't going to be able to be a part of his future, after all. Justin had finally moved on. He'd decided that Liberty Avenue didn't have to be the center of his universe anymore. Now L.A. could.

Oh yes, he was still going. Justin had printed the boarding pass and hidden it where Even wouldn't find it. He'd be off to his new life in less than a week. But first there was _Thrall_.

The establishment could hardly be called a dance club, though there seemed to be a long line of eager patrons trailing down the sidewalk outside, quite willing to pay the hefty cover charge. Vampires got in for free. Inside, Justin glanced around at what he could see, and it had his nerves on edge. The expansive room that constituted _Thrall_ was extremely long and narrow, like a bowling alley that simply went on forever. The ceiling was low and the lights dark blue. The music that hummed through the air was seductive, but eerily so. Despite the atmosphere, it wasn't hard to see just what the people inside were doing.

At first glance, nothing out of the norm appeared to be going on. Justin allowed Evan to pull him along, deeper into the mesmerizing room. They each ordered drinks, adding their own ingredients while the bartender looked the other way. Justin swallowed nervously, welcoming the intoxicating lull that slowly began to come over him. People were milling about, talking and drinking. But half of them were vampires and half of them human, and as Justin progressed deeper into the dark blue haze, he could see couples laid out on couches large enough to be beds. They were everywhere: places to drape yourself. Some people hadn't kept all of their clothes on, and some hadn't kept their fangs to themselves.

"Evan…" Justin ventured as he worriedly eyed a man laid out on one of the couches. "You didn't say this was an orgy."

"It's whatever you want it to be," the wiry man replied deviously. "Didn't you want to get a preview of what this life is like?"

"Yeah but—" _Is this legal? _he wanted to ask.

"You said you wanted all that L.A. had to offer, didn't you? Well this is just a sliver of what you'll see over there," the dark-haired vampire warned. "It's not some well-behaved human club. _This _is a place where you can be yourself." Placing a hand comfortingly on the other man's shoulder, he urged, "So go on, and be yourself."

Justin swallowed more of his drink nervously. The man on the couch in front of him had six people touching him. _Six. _One of them—a woman—removed the man's shirt with no objection. The human looked eager for their hands, their mouths. Justin inhaled sharply as the first of the six bit into the man, and his lips parted in shock as the remaining five followed suit. Again, the human didn't complain. He looked fucking blissed-out.

Fluttering his eyelids in a heady mix of shock and arousal, Justin carefully set his glass aside. He watched them take what they wanted from the man like a pack of lions feasting on their prey, and Justin imagined himself as one of them. Over his shoulder, Evan's voice sounded. "Go on," he said. "Find somebody." He didn't have to say what for.

"_Where do vampires go in Pittsburgh for a good time?"_

"_You know Mikey, that's a good question. I might just have to find out."_

Brian looked up to the sign above. Illuminated faintly by lights, the lone word _Thrall_ seemed ominous to say the least. And unlike at Babylon, where stairs were ascended from the street, here the patrons went down. Michael's question had yielded inquisitive efforts, and those had led Brian here. He'd left Liberty Avenue for a part of Pittsburgh that he could neither define as good or bad, simply because until very recently, he hadn't known it'd existed at all. Brian Kinney was standing outside of what was one of the most popular locations for vampires to congregate. Though through his research, the dark-haired man knew that humans were more than welcome too. In fact, he was banking on it.

He'd reached the front of the line of waiting patrons, all the men—and surprisingly women too—around him dressed just like anyone else ready to head out for a night at the club. Only Brian knew full well that the establishment they were all waiting to get into wasn't the usual sort. It catered to a particular clientele, and people didn't come there to dance. He tried to discern who of those in line might be human, and who not, but it seemed impossible to tell. They all had one trait in common though: everyone looked very eager to get in. They looked like little emo junkies come to get their next fix. It left a discomfited feeling in the pit of his stomach, and Brian was almost worried he wouldn't blend.

As he neared the bouncer by another few feet, the normally self-assured man glanced down at himself. He'd abandoned labels for leather, Gucci for GHB, self-respect for self-degradation. Or at least, he saw it as self-degradation. Because there _was _eyeliner involved. But no one had ever claimed that Brian Kinney wasn't willing to go to outrageous lengths to get what he wanted. And tonight what he wanted was inside that club. He'd trussed himself up sluttier than the time he'd been dragged along to Michael and the Doctor's snotty political fundraiser, semi-sheer shirt and leather pants putting pretty much everything on display.

The bouncer eyed him up at the door, eyebrows raised when he found no telling scars anywhere along the brunette's neck. "Not you," he immediately dismissed.

Brian's eyebrows furrowed at the novel occurrence. He was _never _a 'not you.' "_Excuse_ me?" he said.

The bouncer smirked, "I don't think this is your scene, little boy."

Brian hadn't been called anything close to 'little boy' in nearly a decade. "Why the hell not? Aren't I good enough for your vampires to suck on? I've got someone in there waiting on me."

"Really?" Bouncer man didn't look convinced. Brian was obviously fresh meat, and both men knew it.

But Brian was nodding. He pulled his closed fist from within his pants pocket, displaying bills that more than doubled the advertised cover charge, and a vial of clear liquid as well. "I share party favors, too."

The man stared hard at him for a moment, before taking the money and allowing Brian through the door. Humans that came with V and other favors were good for business, no matter their level of experience with the scene. "Play at your own risk," he muttered, before turning back to decide who else would be admitted that night. Several eager patrons surged forward to volunteer.

Inside, it was dark and cool blue, UV up-lighting casting just enough of a haze onto everything and everyone to illuminate, but not define. But given the outlines of half-naked and completely naked bodies, Brian was sure that the darkness wasn't by mistake. He stepped carefully through the throngs of people, trying to remain anonymous as he searched them out with his eyes. To himself, the dark-haired man thought that if this place didn't exemplify the term "den of iniquity," then he didn't know what did. People were tangled up in the shadows and the blue haze, drinking and fucking and feeding. In a way, it reminded the promiscuous man of an extremely luxe version of Babylon's back room.

The only difference was that here it was all done in the open, and that women were present en masse as well. With numbers bordering on what would constitute a busy night in Babylon, Brian was a little taken aback by how many people were into this sort of scene. He blinked at them through the darkness, hoping that he didn't look as uncomfortable as he felt. He was there posing as a vampire junkie, after all. And even though this was all in the hopes of somehow tracking Justin down and luring him back, Brian couldn't deny that he hadn't felt so intimidated by a group of people since the time he'd walked into Justin's twelfth grade prom.

And just as he was marveling that he'd never actually been in a nightclub that catered to _all_ sexual orientations, one of the aforementioned women in the room pushed off from the bar, approaching him with a purposeful smirk. With a nervous gulp, Brian decided that vampires were definitely more intimidating than twelfth graders.

In the very back of the expansive lone room of _Thrall_, Justin had found his "somebody" for the night.

He had him pressed against the wall near one of the massive couches, his back to Justin's front. Six two, lean muscular build, dark brown hair and aquiline features made him gorgeous; Justin's cup of tea. The fact that everything but his blue eyes could've been directly mistaken for Brian may have been why Justin had him turned to face the wall. But that wasn't something the blonde vampire was willing to admit to himself.

"You want to fuck me too?" Tall dark and handsome asked, in a voice that very much ruined the illusion of who he could have been. Brian never would have asked that.

Justin squeezed his eyes shut, chastising himself for doing it _again. _All this thinking of Brian just had to stop. Moving onwards, he pushed harder against talldark's back, resting his face in the cradle of his neck. "What I want is to eat," he said bluntly, taking in the scent of the man's skin. When he placed his lips against his throat, he could feel the thrumming rush of his blood, coming at him in rhythmic waves. All he had to do to get at it, to loose that heady, rich nectar and have it flowing over his tongue; was bite. So beautifully simple. "Can I?"

"Yeah." Talldark sounded aroused, eager. He canted his head to the side, "Go for it."

Justin licked his lips, excitement flushing his veins. He'd had enough practice at this by now that the prospect of sinking his teeth into a human's vital pathways no longer scared the shit out of him. It thrilled him. Digging his fingers harshly into the man's arms, he whispered for him to hold still, before surging in. Talldark gasped, sounding rightly pained as the vampire behind broke skin. As Justin drank, the sounds the human made turned to ones of gasping pleasure, urging him on and on. Justin fed and, if you'd asked him, he couldn't have guessed who felt more ecstatic as they stood there, locked against the wall in their violent embrace.

"You look lost."

The woman's voice was smooth and sultry. It was the kind of voice Brian would have used in an advert for luxury lingerie, or women's fragrance. When he turned to glimpse her fully, the dark haired executive thought that she had a face worthy of commercials as well. The woman was gorgeous. "I'm Irena," she introduced, cool confidence radiating from her every pore.

Brian gave a polite smile. Stunning might have been the word for this woman, whom he quickly surmised to be a vampire. Her hair and makeup were effortlessly done, her posture lax yet proud. She'd sidled up to him until they were intimately close, and the promiscuous man realized that he was about to be propositioned. Brian blinked in surprise. At six two, he barely reached her height. Though to be fair, women's footwear did tend to give the advantage. He took the drink she handed over, if for nothing else than to calm his nerves of being in the situation that he was. "Brian," he finally said over the rim of the glass, finally offering his own name.

"I saw you when you walked in. Couldn't take my eyes off of you."

"Many can't. But feel free to keep looking."

The woman—Irena—chuckled at him. "You haven't been here before," she said, stating more than asking. Brian was ignoring the voice in his head that was telling him to rebuff the woman. His curiosity was piqued by this place, these people, and it had him cancelling out his better judgment and his 'I'm into cock' spiel for the moment. He didn't try to stop her as she touched his forearm in conversation. "You haven't, have you?" she asked again.

"I'm new," he admitted lightly. "And you're not?"

"Oh, Brian," she chided, using his name familiarly. Brian knew the gesture well and smiled at her intelligence. In general, people responded to the sound of their own name like catnip.

"_Irena_."

"I've been here before. We can leave it that." She smiled, displaying white, sharp teeth. "And I can show you around if you want. Introduce you to some people. Or you and I could just… _talk_." Her brow quirked, and she pointed down the room. "Sit with me over there?"

Brian shrugged, still trying to observe in this elegant woman how the game was apparently played. _How did vampires lure their dinners in? _"What for?" he asked offhandedly, bringing the drink to his lips yet again.

"Why to get more comfortable, of course," she purred. Her other hand came up to touch his face as she closely regarded him. "I rarely make my pick so early in the night. But you've made me decisive."

"Have I?"

She nodded, plum lips curving. "Come get comfortable with me." She moved as if the matter was decided, and that they'd cross the room together to 'get comfortable' on the nearest vacant surface. But Brian held fast. "What is it?" she asked at the pause.

Setting his drink aside, the dark man announced, "I'm gay."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not into pussy," he reworded hastily.

The woman didn't frown or draw away. Far from it, she looked faintly amused. And again Brian was surprised at her. Coming back to the man she'd solicited, she stared into his face from almost exactly the same height. "Crude man," she murmured. "But I wasn't offering mine. Tell me Brian: are you into mouths?"

Brian fought back the image of Justin's perfect, Botticelli lips that flashed through his mind. "Um, mouths?"

"Yes, mouths. Because what I want to do to you involves mine," she placed cool fingers against the strain of his throat, "here."

"I see."

"I promise you don't have to be straight in the slightest to enjoy what I'm offering."

Brian winced at her proposition, gently removing the fingers. "I don't think I would," he returned, clarifying, "I'm not into pain. Well… not that much anyway."

Irena chuckled, but this time the laugh sounded as if it was at the daring man's expense. "Just because you said that… now I _know _you're a virgin. No one who'd ever been bitten would worry about anything so trite as the pain." She laughed again, pulling herself away from the closeness that'd crept between them. "You should go on and play, Brian," she advised dismissively. "I don't know what you're looking for in here tonight, but I hope you find it."

And with that she walked away. Brian watched the sway of her as she resettled herself at the bar, and it wasn't long before another man—this one also presumably human—approached her with a drink of his own. Brian turned from the female vampire who'd obviously moved on from their brief interlude, hazel eyes searching the room yet again. With the creeping influence of a drink now in his system, he stepped further into the haze, determined to seek out that which he'd come there for.

Even watched what was going on in front of him with an increasing sense of trepidation. He hadn't meant for Justin to run away into fantasies of Brian when he'd sent him off to into the club. He'd meant for Justin to find a new toy to become infatuated with. Some stupid junkie human who would have him drawn back to the blue haze again and again for the rush of sex, blood, and being desired. But there the evidence was, clear as day: Justin wasn't moving on, he was reveling in the loss. The man he was feeding from looked like Brian Kinney's long lost cousin. Fuck.

The wiry vampire stepped forward, prepared to bring himself into the mix again. Justin had lost himself in the dark-haired Adonis against the wall, twin trails of near black already winding down his dinner's throat. Stepping forward to take his opportunity, Evan laved a line up that very neck, erasing the evidence that'd escaped the blonde's mouth. His lips ended right next to Justin's and the other man pulled back to look at him.

"What are you doing?" Justin asked. His pupils were blown wide from the adrenaline of what he'd been doing, but he looked unsure at his friend. To be honest, after the drugs and the blood he'd consumed, he'd pretty much forgotten the other vampire altogether. "Evan?"

"Just keep going," Evan assured, moving around to stand between the human and the wall. "And we can share him." He bent to the other side of the man's neck, locking eyes on the uncertain form of Justin as he bit into skin. Justin didn't miss the man's pained hiss as he was violated yet again.

"Are you sure that's okay?" Justin asked Evan, while at the same time sort of asking talldark too. He looked into the human's blue eyes, a little surprised that Evan hadn't even bothered to ask him permission. Maybe the guy didn't want to be gang-fanged. Maybe it wasn't safe… Justin had seen the lagging forms of a few of the humans lying around. There didn't seem to be a rule in _Thrall _as to how many hungry vampires one could entertain at a time. The blonde had somewhat suspected that the worst ones were flirting with unconsciousness, what with the number of people leeching off of them. It wasn't very palatable.

But the man standing between them was taking Justin's hand and guiding it back to his body, apparently his way of reassuring the blonde vampire that he was fine with whatever happened. "Go on," he breathed.

Justin drank again, ignoring his misgivings and taking advantage of the situation. And for a moment more nothing was amiss. Evan drank from his side, and Justin from his. But after a while, the human between them began to lose his stance, staggering in their combined hold at the loss of blood. Justin drew back, alarmed.

"Shit, Evan stop," he urged.

The wiry vampire pulled away long enough to glance at his friend, face morphed into a look of feral pleasure. "Why?" he grinned as if he'd said something funny.

"He can't go any more," Justin stated the obvious.

Evan gave the tall human an appraising look as he moved around his body, pressing him to the wall in front of them. "Come here," he urged Justin, reaching to pull at the semi-coherent man's pants. "I think he can still make himself useful." His finger tugged at the man's clothing again, intentions clear.

"You can't do that!"

"Of course we can. Don't you want to feel good, handsome?" he'd leant forward to ask the man that last, and talldark could be heard moaning something affirmative against the wall. "See? He wants it." Evan had worked the guy's jeans down far enough to reveal his backside.

Justin was looking at his friend as if he'd grown another head. He felt bile ready to rise in his throat at what was occurring. "Are you insane?!" he gaped, "He can't consent to this!"

Evan laughed acerbically, reaching to cradle Justin in a familiar squeeze against his side. "He consented when he walked in, Sunshine. Now," Evan leant forward just enough to kiss the blood off of Justin's bottom lip. "Do you want him first, or should I?"

Justin's lip was still tingling when he stepped back from the other man. Evan had called him Sunshine. And it had sounded so wrong. "I don't want to do this anymore. I think we should leave."

Evan's features hardened at that. Turning away, talldark was left to waver unsteadily against the wall. "Why should we do that, huh?" Evan challenged, eyes dark as he realized that this was not going well for him. Justin still didn't get it. "This is who we are. We have a right to do this. We have a right to be here!" Glancing meaningfully about, the wiry vampire gestured to the tangled couples around them. "I mean come on! _Look_ at them. Outside everyone hates us, but these people can't get enough. They're here for us, because they want to be. We don't have to feel guilty for having what we need; for taking what we want."

"Well maybe we should!" Justin shook his head angrily, suddenly realizing how fucking ludicrous this all was. "This is wrong Evan. These people are all junkies. They can't help themselves. And I don't care what you say. We don't get the right to take advantage of them. Not like this." He'd moved to try and rearrange the exposed human's clothing, righting him where he obviously could not right himself, but Evan jerked his hands away,

"Stop it. What are you doing?" The darker vampire looked as if he truly couldn't comprehend what was driving his friend's actions. Here he'd gone out of his way to bring them closer together, to show Justin all the things that made their existence so special, and the other man was acting as if he'd done something monstrous. Evan couldn't see how Justin wouldn't want to share this with him. "Sunshine—"

"DON'T… call me that." Justin was backing away, the urge to escape the blue haze overpowering his thoughts. "I'm out of here. This was a mistake."

"Justin… Justin! Wait a minute!" The words didn't return his fledgling friend to him, and Evan panicked. Everything was falling apart. With one last contemptuous glance to the human he'd left at the wall, Evan surged off in the direction that Justin had gone. He had to do something before it was too late.


	27. Chapter 27

"No thanks," Brian said delicately as he peeled yet another presumptive hand from his body.

The guarded man was getting tired of fending off offers of sex and really severe hickeys. Apparently he'd done a fairly decent job at blending in because the vampires in the club all wanted to suck his blood. He'd even had a few humans approach him, trying to draw him into their threesomes or foursomes. Flattering as it all was, Brian knew that he couldn't lose sight of his original goal. So he turned down the bodies and the drugs, Irena's drink already having mildly intoxicated his senses.

The blue haze continued the farther down the long, cavernous room he went. And the farther he went, the more brazen everybody seemed to be in their activities. With the barely-perceptible slope to the floor, Brian thought that it was a little bit like descending through the levels of Dante's _Inferno_. Or perhaps _Paradiso, _depending on what you liked.

At this point in the room, the humans nearly all had glazed-over eyes and the vampires all had blood on their lips. At this point in the room, Brian began to feel unsafe. He'd almost given up looking for his vampire, when three figures centered into his vision. There they were: in the shadows against the wall. Brian froze as he saw that Evan was beside Justin, a half-coherent man shared between them. From his distance, Brian could tell that they had fed from the man, but that still didn't explain why they both seemed to be ignoring their meal now.

Brian inhaled in shock at the sight of Evan pulling down the man's pants. The back of Justin's head shook in some gesture, and from then on the two of them seemed to begin arguing about something. With the noise level in the room, Brian couldn't make out a single word of what was said, but their faces told the story well-enough. Evan wanted to continue in their activities, but something had Justin looking disgusted and drawing away. _Had he seen that wrong or had that creeper actually kissed Justin on the mouth?! _Brian gulped as he watched the blonde vampire swivel on his heel, departing hastily from the club.

"Wait," he spoke in surprise as Justin stalked by through the throngs, and missed seeing him. "Shit." A moment later Evan could be seen retracing the path that Justin had torn through the crowd, and Brian struggled to follow suit. He didn't know where Justin had been storming off to, but an angry Evan at his back wouldn't lead to anything good. So Brian followed.

Justin hurried down the sidewalk, oblivious to his surroundings as he fumed inside his head. _How could Evan have acted like that?! How could he have been so callous?_ The blonde felt disgust roil in the pit of his stomach. Disgust at Evan, at the other vampires in there, even at the humans who were stupid enough to enter. But most of all, he felt disgust at himself. Because he'd liked it.

He'd walked into that club and thrilled at the ample opportunity for him to take whatever he wanted. The humans throwing themselves all over him, the choice to feed or fuck or both right there in the open without fear of reprisal, had excited him and he'd gone willingly into the haze. For once, he hadn't felt like one of the out-group. Far from it, he'd been very _in. _All the violent thoughts that he entertained by nature had, for a brief time, been released. And he'd liked it.

Justin looked up, realizing that he'd walked quite a ways in his haste, not exactly having paid attention to just where he was going. He'd come to a stop between an old parking lot and a deli that'd closed for the night. He breathed in the cold night air, watching it steam on the exhale. There was a group of about four or five men standing around near the entrance to the lot, eyeing him up threateningly.

Justin swallowed, wishing he'd worn a coat. He probably stood out like a sore thumb, standing there in his sleeveless club shirt with nary a goose pimple. He looked again to see how the men were stirring as they watched him. _Shit_. Justin knew he should turn around. He probably hadn't even walked that far from _Thrall…_

"Justin!" Justin turned the other way, nearly wincing as he saw Evan hurrying down the sidewalk. "Wait a second!" The wiry vampire reached his friend, grabbed his face, and laid a firm kiss square on his lips. Justin was shocked, until the other man pulled back and beseeched in purely platonic fashion, "I wasn't trying to force you into anything you didn't want. I just thought we should try something different. Now do you see why L.A. is such a bad idea?"

"I see why Pittsburgh is a bad idea…" Justin tried to pay attention to what Evan was saying. But even though he'd figured the kiss that had just occurred to be one of friendly greeting—like Brian always planted on Michael, the stirring men to the side obviously had not. They stepped even closer and Justin got Evan's attention to redirect to the threat heading their way.

"What do we have here?" Evan asked, voice anxious. Justin would have said he sounded worried, and given that one of the men had led the pack to step away from their spot and come closer, he also wouldn't have argued that worried was a bad thing to be. "Hey, what do you want?" Evan preempted, ignoring his friend's warning glare,

"Come on Evan, let's just go. These guys look like trouble."

"What do you two fags think you're doing out here?" the leader growled.

"Um, what does it look like? _Kissing_. What's the matter, haven't you ever seen two vampires making out before?" To demonstrate his point, he grabbed Justin to him again, smashing their lips together in an uncoordinated kiss. Justin could have smacked him.

"Vampire?"

"They're fucking vampires?"

"Fags! They're probably from that sleazy place down the block."

"What the fuck are you doing?" Justin hissed lowly to his friend, shoving away from the kiss. The men were coming closer, confrontation in their eyes. It had every muscle in Justin's body tense, and that was compounded by the fact that when the blonde look to his side, the same wild look of confrontation was burning in Evan's eyes, too. The man was ready for a fight. "Evan," he repeated, "Let's just go. They can't outrun us."

"Why the fuck should we run?" the dark haired man asked incredulously. "You assholes better get lost if you know what's good for you," Evan told them. "And we'll fucking kiss, and fuck, and do whatever the hell else we want to right here. And if you don't like it you can suck my dick."

"Evan, stop this!"

"You won't be fucking, and I won't be sucking, anything. Because I'm going to pull your goddamned dick off and feed it to you, you disgusting bloodsucker!" The men were close enough now for a fight to break out...

"Ooh, sounds kinky. I can't WAIT!"

…and with Evan's continued attitude, it soon did.

Justin inhaled sharply as two of the men rushed forward and grabbed at Evan's arms. A third looked ready to punch his lights out, but the wiry vampire had tossed the first two like they were ragdolls, sending them careening into the third. Then the remaining two of the five came at Justin.

Years of Krav classes had one man on his knees in tears, the other breathlessly clutching his windpipe. And Justin still felt scared shitless as the rush of adrenaline shook him. Far from dissuading the other men, the blonde vampire's prowess spurred them on. The leader pulled out a switchblade. "Motherfucker. I am so done with seeing you freaks in my neighborhood."

"Justin!"

Justin turned again, this time to see an even less welcome face approaching. "Brian?" he breathed, feeling his heart sink. _Oh shit. _What blood he had consumed that night drained clear out of his face. "Brian, leave. Now!" Suddenly, the fear he'd felt at the prospect of being physically accosted skyrocketed exponentially. Justin jerked his eyes back to the weapon that had been produced, and the man who was brandishing it. He silently thanked whatever god there was that the human hadn't pulled a gun. "Put it away," he said loudly to the man. "We haven't done anything to you. We're leaving, you hear me?! Leaving!" Justin took a step away, but three men left standing were not to be so easily deflected.

"I _SAID: _I'm done with you freaks."

"Kill him Ronnie! Stick him!"

Justin lunged to the side as the man surged forward with the knife. Electric blue eyes had a split second to meet Evan's, their outrageous gaze speaking volumes. "Look what you've done," they said. Evan simply stood there like he'd proved yet another point, though this time a less-appealing one.

Brian wasn't listening to directions either, it seemed. One minute Justin was fighting off the rapid knife attack, and the next he felt the older man at his side, trying to intercede on his behalf. Justin didn't even think before he shoved Brian as hard as he physically could. The brunette landed on his ass nearly six yards away. And when it became clear that the man intended to get up again, Justin screamed at Evan to hold him down. "NOW!" Justin yelled again as a sickeningly close swipe of the blade grazed his arm. "Hold him down if you know what's good for you!"

Brian's protests could be heard as he cursed the vampire out. But Justin didn't even look their way. His eyes had locked with the leader of this attack. His two remaining friends seemed to be hovering behind, waiting to see just exactly what would happen. "One of you is going to die if you don't stop," Justin gasped as he dodged yet another swipe. His arm was already aching where it'd been sliced, and Justin didn't have to look down to see that it was deep.

But the man didn't give up. He kept attacking, his friends kept watching, Brian kept screaming and Evan kept holding him down. The world had gone mad and Justin was at the end of it all. When the man came forward to slash again, Justin swiftly broke his arm.

Someone had called the police. Justin wasn't sure if it'd been Brian, but with three immobilized humans and another two scared too shitless to move, that didn't leave many other options. Whoever it'd been, it didn't matter. It was inevitable anyways. Street fights tended to attract attention that way.

The police had shown up, and it had become quite apparent quite quickly, that they didn't want to hear Justin's story. It hadn't helped that the slice on his arm had knitted seamlessly together while his attackers still lay groaning on the pavement. And so the five thugs who'd accosted them were towed away in ambulances, Justin in a squad car.

By the time all the action was drawing to a close at the station, dawn was fast approaching. Justin stood by the station's release desk, signing the last of the paperwork that would have him bailed out. "Jesus," he complained as he handed the last one over. "We have to hurry if I don't want to spend the entire day here."

"We?" Brian was standing at his back, holding the little baggie of what few personal effects the blonde vampire had had confiscated from him. "Aren't you going back to the studio?" His eyes blazed at the younger man. "I'm sure Evan's tucked away in his coffin, just waiting for you."

"I can't go back there." Justin didn't try to meet Brian's eyes as he said it. "I don't want to see him right now."

"I think I can understand why. Now: where exactly are 'we' going?"

"Look Brian, I wasn't asking to go home with you. It just slipped out." Justin scuffed his shoe along the floor's tiles. It had slipped out, but in truth: where the hell else did he have to go? He finally allowed himself to look Brian square in the face. "I'll be fine. Why don't you just go? You've done enough already."

He'd done more than enough. Brian had called Melanie, and he'd called Carl. Each of those two individuals were probably about equally responsible for why the young blonde was currently about to walk out of the station while it was still dark outside, rather than sit in some holding cell for a day. But more importantly, Brian stuck up for Justin in the face of all the questioning the detectives had rained down on them. As another vampire, Evan was a loose cannon, but Brian had been the only human witness to speak on Justin's behalf, and he truly had. If the blonde was ever indicted on the charges pending, he knew that he could count on the older man to go to bat for him.

That knowledge meant more to Justin that he could ever explain. On the car ride back to the loft, he said quietly, "Thank you. For what you did."

Brian kept his eyes locked on the road. "I just told them the truth. You didn't start the fight."

"You didn't see who started it," Justin whispered.

"I know you well enough to know you wouldn't have. Besides," Brian countered, "those men were thugs. I'm sure they'll make that clear to anybody who interviews them, even if it has to be Mel at your trial."

Justin gulped at the word 'trial,' hardly having gotten that far in his thoughts yet.

"We're here." Brian's voice was subdued as he quickly removed himself from the vehicle. Justin sighed at the distance between them, and unlatched his seatbelt to follow suit.

As Brian flicked the lights on and Justin closed the loft's door, the younger man fretted aloud, "You don't really think I'll have to go to trial, do you?"

Brian shrugged, already having gone to the kitchen to pour himself a drink. The time on a nearby clock showed it to be nearly four thirty AM. "You want anything?" he asked flatly.

"Double vodka, neat." Brian raised his eyes from the kitchen, earning a shrug off the younger man, "I had to toss my favors when the cops showed up. And I could use a drink." Brooding, the blonde went to sit on the couch. "Not that it matters. Everything's so screwed up anyways." Brian arrived with their drinks and sat, watching quietly and pointedly as Justin took hasty sips of his drink. After long moments, Justin caved under the stare. "What? Aren't you going to say anything?"

A shrug. "What do you want me to say?"

"Whatever you're thinking!"

Brian looked annoyed, his posture keeping him distanced from the young man even though they say so close together on the couch. "I'm thinking a lot of things," he said finally. The old fashioned was lifted to his lips and lowered. "I'm thinking about what it was like to watch that man try and kill you, while I lay there…" he trailed off, lost in the thoughts he'd revealed. "You were very lucky tonight," he finally whispered at the vampire to his side. His eyes lifted to meet muted blue ones. "You know that, don't you?"

"I don't feel lucky."

"You could have done any one of a dozen horrible things to someone in that nightclub, but you didn't. You could have done worse to those humans on the street, but you didn't. You could have been caught with all those drug on you when the cops arrived, but you weren't." Brian paused, finishing with stricken vocal cords, "You could have died."

"Oh please," Justin scowled. He was far more durable than that now. "Listen—"

"No _you _listen!" The darker man's voice had whittled down to a hiss of aggravation. "I'm sick of watching you almost die." Brian shuddered as he took another swig of his drink. Bashing, bombing, drowning, stabbing. He'd had enough of thinking that his world was about to end. "Please don't make me have to do it ever again." Continuing before the blonde could get a word in edgewise, he added, "You were walking a fine line with Evan and his way of doing things. Tonight you fell off. What's it going to take for you to see that what he's leading you into is no good?"

"Maybe nothing." Justin drank more from his glass, relishing the burn. "Maybe I already knew that. I just didn't want to believe it. I wanted to believe that there _was _a world where we could do those things freely. But it was a lie; those people in there weren't giving anything freely."

"They were junkies," Brian supplied, remembering what Aiden had once told him:

"_Drinking from the vein can be addictive."_

"_For the vampire?"_

"…_For the human."_

"I didn't get it until I saw," Justin was admitting. "I don't want to infect people like that. I just don't know where else I'm going to find people who are willing to let me, you know," he frowned, "eat. I can't spend the rest of my life drinking that bottled stuff like Aiden. It's no way to live." Justin sighed forlornly, not knowing a solution and not expecting Brian to offer one.

"What about one person?" Brian hedged quietly.

"One person what?"

"To feed off of." Brian tried to contain a smirk at the irony of his next words: "Dietary monogamy."

"Just one?"

Brian shrugged. "It'd be safer than trolling around in places like _Thrall _every night." It was some advice coming from him, the king of promiscuity, but he let the younger man soak in the idea.

Justin imagined it; feeding off of the same human for most of his meals. It sounded like an okay idea, but… further consideration had him abandoning the notion. "Oh come on Brian: who would even do that? They'd just be some junkie I took advantage of. I can't do that to some stranger. It wouldn't be right." Justin winced through another gulp of the strong liquor he'd asked for, the silence of the room descending heavily upon them again.

Brian nodded wordlessly at the blonde's statement, staring anywhere but at Justin as he considered the insane offer he was about to make. His heart was hammering before he'd even opened his mouth to speak the words, "What about me?"

"What about you?"

Brian glanced over. Justin was sullenly contemplating his drink. He didn't seem to understand what the older man had said yet. "What about me... being your one person?"

There was a long moment where Justin finally tensed in realization, and then another moment before he dragged his eyes over to meet hazel ones. "You're not serious."

"Crazy as it is…" Brian trailed off.

"Brian… You don't mean that. You always said you'd never do that. You detest the thought."

"I changed my mind."

"You can't."

Brian scoffed in annoyance. "Stop telling me what I mean and what I think."

From his position on the couch, Justin looked utterly conflicted. His brow crumpled as he sat there considering the outrageous offer his lover had just made. "I can't," he whispered. "I couldn't. You don't know what you're offering."

"I think I know exactly what I'm offering," Brian quipped. "I was in that club too, Sunshine. I saw them."

"You'd be addicted!"

A private smirk curved the older man's mouth, and he muttered quietly, "Would that be so different from now?" He was already addicted to Justin at this point, Brian thought sadly. It'd just taken him losing Justin's love to realize it. "I don't want you putting yourself at risk, trying to get what you need or what you think you need. So I'm offering this. Take it from me."

Justin looked as if he never would have expected such an offer from the darker man. But he also hadn't made any move to flee. Blue eyes considered him long and hard, a war of some sort playing out beneath their surface. "I think I shouldn't have asked for a double," he mumbled, warily eyeing the near-empty glass in his hand. "Because I'm actually considering this. Brian I'm really scared."

"About drinking my blood?"

"No." The blonde shook his head. "About what happened tonight. About going to jail."

"You're not going to go to jail. That little shit hasn't gotten you that deep in it yet."

Justin winced at the mention of Evan. "He seemed right about so much. Like he knew everything. He used to talk a lot like you, actually. He'd say: 'There's only two kinds of humans. The ones that hate you to your face, and the ones that hate you behind your back.'" The blonde vampire smirked humorlessly. "Well he certainly proved his point tonight."

"Did he really say that?"

"…Only after I'd quoted you."

Brian smiled the thought of the kid thinking of him even when they'd been apart. Reaching to take Justin's glass, he set it carefully on the coffee table so that he could hold his hand instead. "Justin look at me. Now listen. Are you listening? Saying that about straight people? It's wrong. It's not true. And it's not true about humans either. I can be your case in point: I don't hate you. I love you."

"Brian…"

"I know you don't feel the same," Brian rushed determinedly. "I'm not asking you to say that you do. But I don't want to see you get hurt or in trouble anymore. So from now on, keep a six pack in your fridge for emergencies. And if you want real blood," he inhaled deeply, steeling himself for his next words, "then have mine."

Justin looked utterly wrecked at what Brian was offering him. "Why are you doing this?" he nearly whispered. "You're the most selfish man I know. We're not even together. Why are you doing this now?"

Brian kept his lips sealed tight. "Because I want to," he lied. There wasn't any way he could ever imagine actually _wanting _Justin to bite him, but the kid didn't need to know that. Maybe he was doing this to try and keep his Sonnyboy safe, but maybe it was also his last ditch effort not to lose him. It may have been the truth, but he didn't speak that truth aloud. In his head, the words that Lindsay had spoken to him in the loft echoed unbidden: _'I also know that everybody comes to a point where they have to make concessions for the ones they love.' _Brian gulped, thinking that this would have to be his concession for Justin. His one, grand gesture. "Well?" he breathed finally, seeing that Justin was on the verge of agreeing. He moved closer to the blonde, allowing himself to touch his face familiarly.

"I shouldn't…"

"Stay," Brian coerced softly. "Stay with me tonight, and do this." He stood, drawing the smaller man up with him. His hands found their place at Justin's sides and he pressed their foreheads together. "You have to find a way to fit into the human world. The path he's leading you down won't work."

"I'm going to L.A. in two days," Justin protested. "He won't be there. And neither will you."

But Brian was shaking his head even as they stood so intimately close. "Don't go," he stated as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "Don't use Keller as a way out of all your problems."

Justin was about to protest again, to say that he couldn't stay when what he had with Evan wasn't working, and what had with Brian wasn't working. And L.A. was his chance of a lifetime. He wanted to tell Brian all of these things, but the words stalled in his throat at the way Brian was holding him, and the way his eyes and his voice implored him. But most of all the offer of Brian's blood, and presumptively his body, had the young man betraying his promise to himself. Because he knew it would feel so good to have both.

When the darker man moved to kiss him, Justin didn't pull away. He kissed back.

And once they began, Justin knew he wouldn't stop. His heart sunk as Brian kissed him passionately, hands sliding over his body. The events of the past twenty four hours had left Justin scared and unsure and desperate for anything solid. And now here it was, being delivered so effortlessly into his arms. He lost control of his better judgment, and followed Brian up to the bedroom.


	28. Chapter 28

Brian stood at the foot of his bed, not certain what Justin would do now that they were up there. He'd made the ultimate offer not a moment ago, but it wasn't clear yet whether Justin was willing to take it, or if they were just going to get laid.

The kid was kissing him back eagerly now, which Brian took as a good sign. Their mouths melded together, each of them ignoring their misgivings in favor of the pleasure their lips could chase. And it did feel good. Having Justin in his arms, against his own body, always felt good. But every time Justin's hands touched near his shoulders or his neck, the older man had to fight not to flinch. He absolutely couldn't flinch.

If Justin knew that he'd lied, that he was secretly terrified of doing this, well then the game was all over. So Brian held the vampire in his arms and tried to show him with his body that there was nothing more he wanted in the world than to have him here, doing this.

Justin's hands had reached for his shirt, and Brian let him peel it off, holding his arms away so as to be completely divested. Justin hadn't said anything about his unusual attire from that night, and for that he was grateful. Half naked and with the kid bent down placing kisses along his chest, Brian closed his eyes and ran fingers through the once again long strands of his hair. He asked, "Justin?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want to lie down?"

Ice pale eyes glanced up at him, "Yeah." He removed all of his clothes and Brian watched appreciatively as the compact body of his lover crawled down across the bed, every muscle and sinew on display. Justin looked the same now as he had before he'd been changed; amazingly handsome and perfectly fuckable. The darker man hurriedly undressed and joined him, eager to cover the length of Justin's body with his own. He found that the more his naked skin was able to come in contact with Justin's, the less nervous he was. Brian decided that he'd use their sex to make the best of it. The kid hadn't taken a chomp out of him yet, after all.

Justin was hard against his leg in no time, and Brian marveled at how responsive he was even after all these years. He placed Justin's hand on his own member, not having to do anything else for the blonde to take the hint and stroke him to an equivalent state. "Like that?" Justin murmured, and Brian nodded distractedly. He knew he was being quieter than usual. "You still want to do this?" the vampire asked, and Brian cursed the kid for how unfailingly perceptive he was.

"Sunshine, you've got my dick in your hand; do you really think I want to stop?"

"That's not what I mean."

Brian knew what he'd meant, but he wasn't going to keep their little chat going. He was finally giving in to the one thing he thought he never would. Ever since Justin had been changed, biting had been off limits. He'd made that clear from the very beginning of their numerous attempts at reestablishing something resembling a relationship. But each attempt had failed, and now Justin had a plane ticket to L.A. stashed away somewhere, and Brian was out of cards to play. Except this one.

"Brian," Justin was saying softly as he kissed along the tense man's neck. "Don't think about it right now. Just… fuck me?"

_That _was something Brian could do with little trepidation. He had a condom and lube from the drawer before Justin could say anything else, and the blonde was turning over as if he'd get up from the bed. "Where are you going?"

Justin walked to the bathroom and back, returning with a towel as his answer. "Two thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets?" He smirked, tossing the towel at his lover. "You'll be glad I thought of that later."

Brian frowned ruefully at the implication that he'd be bleeding by the time this was all said and done. But his companion quickly erased any nervous thoughts as he returned to tangle with him on the bed. Justin's kisses wrought the most wonderful sensations as his hands worked below to bring the darker man to a frenzied state. Brian took the condom in hand, remembered he didn't need it, and tossed it to the side as he got Justin beneath him once again.

The thought he'd entertained of an hour-long rim job went out the window the second he saw the urgent lust in Justin's eyes. Brian wondered how on earth the man couldn't love him anymore, when the passion between them was clearly just as strong as it'd ever been. Prep never flew by so fast as he soon found himself poised at Justin's entrance. "Come on," Justin breathed, eagerness painted all over his features. Brian wondered whether the eagerness came more from the promise of his cock, or his blood. Shaking off the thought, he moved his hips forward in that first, agonizing thrust. Justin's head tipped back, mouth parted just enough to flash fangs, and Brian Kinney began to make careful work out of showing Justin Taylor exactly what he'd been thinking about giving up.

Approximately fourteen minutes later (though only the bedside clock had the wherewithal to count), Justin was gasping his release, his and Brian's chests wet with the evidence. "Oh, god," he groaned, coming down from his high. Brian forced himself to slow, even though it was the absolute last thing he wanted to do. In a moment the younger man would shirk away, he knew; too sensitive to go any longer.

But even though that seemed to be the way things went, Justin quickly made up for it by crawling behind the larger man's form, laying them both on their sides and giving him the reach around. "You didn't come," he murmured against heated skin, his formerly-gimp hand displaying all of its regained dexterity as he stroked Brian's erection.

"Obviously," Brian groaned, gritting his teeth at the pleasure. "Just… don't… stop," he panted.

A tenderly-whispered, "I won't," sounded into the shell of his ear, right before Brian felt soft lips mapping a path along his shoulder to his neck.

"Shit," he said, groaning again because he was just _that _close to his own orgasm. He could feel the kid scraping his teeth lightly against his skin. "You waited till now to do it?"

Justin's chuckle could be felt reverberating against his throat. "Yep."

"Does it—Ah!" he hissed in pleasure at the hand still working him. Justin was going to fucking bite him. How the hell had he ever offered this? "Does it hurt?"

"A little bit. But that's a part of it."

Some sort of strained laugh escaped Brian's parched lips at the words. "That's what I told you when I fucked you the first time."

"I _know_."

Brian pressed the side of his face into the pillow, and he felt the rougher fabric of his bathroom towel scratching on his cheek. He hadn't even noticed Justin laying it out beneath them… "Justin," he groaned, unable to stand the tension of being both jacked off so perfectly and worrying when the hell the other man was going to strike. "Just do it!"

Justin bit him. And it hurt like hell.

Brian's eyes shot open at the very real feeling of two canines sinking through his skin. It felt like he'd been skewered by two ice picks. A strangled grunt that rivaled Justin's first virgin shout of pain left him, his entire body stiffening in response to the onslaught. Just when his first, pained exhale of breath was being let out, Justin pulled his teeth out, and Brian felt the immediate latch of his lips against the wound.

It hurt worse than Brian had expected, and he was definitely regretting his decision to let the blonde have him in this way. He wanted to ask Justin if _every _time was this bad, but the vampire obviously had his mouth otherwise occupied. Justin hadn't forgotten about the handjob he was performing, however. Brian glanced down as best he could, to see his cock being expertly fisted. He groaned again, only this time it was in pleasure. "Fuck, Justin." Brian was unsure if he was complaining about the pain, or marveling at the pleasure. Maybe a little bit of both.

The hand around him squeezed, applying delicious pressure and twisting at the end of every upstroke. Brian stared a second more before squeezing his eyes shut. _God, it felt too good! _Justin still knew exactly how he liked it. Said man was still latched onto him, lips pressed to his jugular as he lapped up the blood that welled out of it.

And then there came a point where the pain just leveled out. And it seeped away ten times faster than the blood from his body. Brian was surprised to feel a sense of euphoria come over him. Gone was the agonizing feel of a serious puncture wound, the only thing left in its wake a semi-pleasant burn. And the pleasurable sensation that had nothing to do with his cock, grew and grew until it had formed a shining, swirling ball within his center. _Holy shit._

"Oh, it's…" the next time Brian opened his eyes they'd already glazed over. "Oh, ooh…" He couldn't formulate words. He couldn't say how he felt absolutely ecstatic, blissed out. _So this was what all the junkies went back and back for_, his fuzzed mind thought. This had to be better than heroine. Brian writhed under the younger man's hand and mouth that held him, unsure if he could soar any higher before falling… "Ah!"

Finally, Justin drew his mouth back. Presumably, he'd been drinking Brian's blood, though the darker man hadn't been able to tell by feel alone. A warm trickle escaped and ran down the back of his neck as Justin parted from him. "You okay?" the blonde asked.

"Don't stop!" Brian cried out before he could contain himself. Justin's hand had paused, and with this euphoric rush he was feeling, the loss was like a punch to Brian's face. He'd never felt this good. Never. "Justin," he panted, thrusting against the younger man's hand, "please!"

The fingers tightened, resuming their coaxing pace. Brian felt that he would soon implode from it, that certainty cemented the second that Justin's mouth returned to his neck. _What was it that made this so good?_ Brian barely managed to wonder as he neared his peak. Sweat beaded across his skin, gathering between his shoulder blades, along the line of his scalp. "Ugnh," another mindless groan escaped him. He was going to come so hard…

And he did. He shouted into the towel beneath his face as his frame convulsed, pulling away from the seal of Justin's mouth. The orgasm that ripped through his body in that moment was immense; the swirling ball within his center bursting in a thousand different directions, tightening his body like a bow and blacking out his vision. Justin disappeared, the bed disappeared, everything disappeared but the pleasure.

It lasted longer than it normally would have, though the blissed-out man had no true sense of time as he floated back down to where his body lay on the bed. Justin came back into existence, spooned behind and holding their bodies tightly together. The blonde could be felt kissing his damp skin, carding fingers through his hair as he recovered from what had happened. Brian gulped, suddenly aware of how dry his mouth was. "Jesus," he whispered, too tired to say anything else.

"You okay?" Justin asked once again. "Brian? What'd you think?"

Licking his lips, Brian remarked breathlessly, "I think you spiked my old fashioned."

Justin laughed.

It'd been a brash and reckless move.

Maybe they'd both known that from the beginning. What had the two of them ever done together, after all, that wasn't a little bit reckless?

But this time was different. Now they'd done something that couldn't be reversed, and it was going to make what had to be done next, that much harder. Justin had taken the unthinkable from his lover. Brian had given it, of course, but that didn't change the fact that by the very next evening, they were facing an unthinkable future for each of them.

Justin stood by the loft's rear windows, watching that day's' fading sun through the sheer curtains. He'd been there with Brian to watch it climb to its noon height, and he'd been there to watch it gradually fade away. Brian was at the dining room table, watching Justin. He couldn't believe this had played out so badly. As he sat there, watching his lover watch the sun, he recalled all the times in their four years of history that he'd messed up, or Justin had messed up, or both. Each of those times it had seemed like the end of the world, too. Yet things always came full-circle, and they always fixed the problem. But again: this time was different.

This time Brian knew that things weren't going to be fixed. He felt just about as hopeless as the time that doctor at Pitt General had announced to he and Jennifer that Justin wasn't going to wake up. Perhaps more hopeless, since there wasn't exactly a miraculous cure for a boyfriend who had his mind set to leave. Brian glanced up to where the kid was still standing at the window. He was wearing his pants from the night before, but Brian had lent him the shirt. It made something in the older man's chest ache, to see his clothing on Justin like that, and he regretted giving him the shirt at all. "Why don't you come sit down?" he asked softly. "Staring at it isn't going to make it set any faster."

The blonde came back to him, pulling the other chair to sit close by his side. "You must hate me," he said simply.

"I don't hate you." Brian knew he must look angry, but it was the circumstances of it all that he hated, not Justin. The circumstances being that the younger man hadn't changed his mind. After all they'd done, even after Brian had let him have the last piece of himself, Justin was still leaving. "I just don't want you to go."

"Because you love me."

"Yes." Brian would say it if that was what Justin wanted. He was so in love with him. But the vampire was shaking his head sadly, and that told Brian that horrid truth: that his love simply wasn't enough.

"That's why I'm doing this. I can't stay. You love me and I don't love you. God knows I've tried, but I still haven't remembered anything. Even after last night I still don't." He sighed, rubbing his face into his palms in frustration. "Brian we messed up so bad last night. I can't believe I did that."

Brian shrugged, trying not to look as depressed as he felt. Justin was tearing down his world around him. "I didn't mind."

"Oh course you didn't! It felt good to you. It's freaking addicting. And that's exactly why I shouldn't have done it." The blonde almost wished he'd had more to drink the previous night. At least then he would have been able to blame his lapse in judgment on intoxication. As it was, the blame was all on him. "God, I'm so selfish!" he moaned.

"I'm not mad at you for this," Brian promised, touching lightly to where the wound from that night was rapidly healing. "You don't think I'm mad, do you?" He'd been the one to offer his neck, after all. Just because it hadn't all gone according to plan didn't mean he couldn't at least take his share of responsibility. "Justin?"

"Yeah, I know." Sorrowful blue eyes blinked at him, so very full of guilt. "I know. But I've hurt you. You'll be in pain by the time I leave for L.A."

"I can handle it." Brian knew he had a world of pain coming his way, but that seemed so insignificant now. How could that ever compare to what he was feeling now? No, physical pain would be a breeze. What he couldn't handle was Justin leaving for good. He'd go through the withdrawal symptoms a hundred times over, if it meant that Justin would stay. "Where will you go?" he asked quietly. "You don't know anyone over there."

The younger man gave a small smile, "You've always taken care of me Brian. L.A.'s going to be my chance to do it for myself."

"Take care of yourself in Pittsburgh."

"I'm not going to stay here and be your ghost. Do you think that'll hurt you any less?" Justin reached for the larger man's hand imploringly, holding it tightly in his own. "I left you because of all the things Evan said, and that was wrong. But I'm leaving Pittsburgh because of me. I need to leave the past behind. I can't make anything of my life until I've done that. Can't you understand?"

"I don't understand," Brian was saying. "I don't understand any of it." How could he possibly be expected to resign himself to a choice that he didn't agree with, didn't even understand? He glanced up to the windows where Justin had stood, trying desperately not to let his eyes grow wet. He refused to cry in front of the other man. _Later, _he promised himself. Later. The setting sun had curved past the horizon, the shadows of the loft's furniture stretching longer and longer across the floor like some ominous count down. It was nearly dark enough for Justin to leave. Something terrible was growing in Brian's chest, and he figured belatedly that it must be internal bleeding. His heart was broken, after all. "I can't make you stay, can I?" He squeezed his eyes shut, and when Justin moved over from his chair to hold him, Brian's breath left him in a pained gasp. "I can't make you stay."

Justin didn't have to say anything. The answer was quite obvious anyways.

Later, as both men stood by the door, Justin tried to find the words that would make their parting any less painful. But the words didn't exist. The taxi had arrived downstairs, and the blonde vampire allowed Brian to hug their bodies close in the last moments that they had together.

"I'm so sorry," Justin whispered in his ear. "I wish—"

"Don't," Brian advised. "Don't make wishes. They rarely work out." His own certainly hadn't.

"Will you be alright?"

Brian shrugged a little. "You know what they say: when a door closes, somewhere…" he paused, his intolerance for clichés making him wince. "Well, you know the rest."

"Yeah, I think I do." Justin reached to touch where his fangs had pierced the older man's neck, cursing himself again for what he'd done. "You shouldn't be alone."

"Me and all the other ghosts can keep each other company."

"Promise me you'll call someone if it gets too bad."

Brian nodded. "I promise."

"Okay. Well…" Justin inhaled deeply, looking far less wrecked than his counterpart felt. This was what it had all come down to. "Goodbye Brian."

Brian wanted to say goodbye as well, but his lips wouldn't part to utter the words. He only managed to nod his head as Justin stepped out into the hallway. And even though Brian had tried his damndest not to break, something very much resembling a tear escaped down his cheek as he watched Justin slide the loft's door closed for the last time.


	29. Chapter 29

Brian woke up late that night, confused as to the time or circumstance until he looked and saw the clock, and remembered. _Oh_. He blinked tiredly at the bedroom ceiling. _Right._

Justin was gone.

He sat up, feeling unusually hot despite the cool air of the room. The apartment was still now, dark from the late hour and devoid of any sound but that of his own subtle movements. Brian swallowed, realized he was thirsty and that he must have cried while he slept. He didn't remember, but the stale tracks of tears made his face feel stiff. He stood up from the bed to go into the bathroom and wash them off, the bloody towel from earlier dropped into the hamper on the way

A drink probably wasn't the best thing for him at that point, what with the events of the past twenty four hours and the headache he had brewing. But he poured one anyway. His first sip went down smoothly as he leant against the kitchen's counter, trying to think how he should feel. Surely something as terrible as losing the only man he'd ever loved merited more than this vague feeling of a hangover? But all he felt was numb, used up, spent. Something told the hedonistic man that he'd be feeling far shittier once he'd regained his energy. Brian placed a wary hand on his forehead, realizing that he really did feel flushed.

"Shit," he murmured. "Already?" Well, Justin _had _warned him. Brian Kinney had never been an addict to anything. That was a mistake lesser people made, not he. A faint chuckle left his lips as he lowered himself to sit at the computer desk. The kid wasn't even out of town yet, and already the lasting effects of his parting gift were rearing their ugly heads. Brian had never gone through withdrawal before. If he hadn't had worse things to contemplate, he probably would have been bothered to be scared. He had a humorless thought that the only good thing about Justin not being there, would be that he'd never see Brian going through this.

There was a broken Wii remote laying over by the living room window that he'd not yet cleaned up; the remnants of the older man's negative reaction when, post-coitus/bitus, Justin had _still _decided to leave him. Oh, he'd yelled, screamed even. But with Justin trapped there by the sun for a full day, Brian had found that yelling couldn't last forever, and it achieved nothing besides. The brunette's jaw tightened as he replayed how he'd let the other man walk right out the door, no fight offered but for the words he'd exhausted long ago.

The plastic baggie that the cops had put all of Justin's stuff in was sitting on the desk in front of him, right atop the copy of _Dallas Buyer's Club _that they'd never watched. Justin had taken everything out of it, except for one item. Brian tried to keep his fingers from trembling as he removed the cowrie shell bracelet. A pang of sadness sliced through him at the thought that Justin hadn't wanted to keep it. _Why should he want to keep some silly memento? _Brian's mind snapped cruelly, _He doesn't love you._

_Right. _Brian took another sip from his drink. He hadn't forgotten that. It was why they were apart now, and would be forever. Justin was getting on a plane to L.A. in less than twenty four hours and that would be the end of them. Justin Taylor would go on to his new life, and Brian Kinney would go back to being what he'd always been: alone. The brooding man snorted callously as he swiveled in the desk chair. God, if anyone had asked him what he thought would be the end of him and his stalker, the last guess Brian ever would have offered was that Sunshine would fall out of love with him. Ridiculous.

Except that it wasn't. It was oh so true. And despite all he'd done, Brian hadn't been able to stop it. Now he sat alone at his desk, nursing a drink as the first symptoms of withdrawal crept upon him. There was a picture frame sitting next to the desktop computer, one of those new electronic ones that the gadget store at the mall always sold. It'd been a Christmas present from Ted last year, and Brian had filled it with photos of Michael, Justin, Emmett and the rest of the gang. One of the photos that was of Justin cycled by, and before he could stop himself Brian was touching the button that would pause the slideshow. Justin smiled out at him, having been caught unawares by the camera at an early hour that day. His eyes were still bleary with sleep, his hair as tangled as the sheets around his body. _God, he looked like heaven. _

Brian felt his gut swirl. It was unfair, he thought, how much he wanted that man. His want, his need for Justin extended so far beyond anything he'd ever felt before, and Brian knew that he would forever be left wanting because he would never get enough, never be sated as long as Justin was there, still existing. In Pittsburgh or L.A., it didn't matter. He'd been infected by Justin long before he'd ever let him sink his fangs in, and somehow Brian knew it was a malady that was never quite going to go away. Not like a scar or tattoo. Those things were on the surface, superficial. They had surgeries for that. What Brian had went deeper, and there was no useful cure for it. Justin was simply… in his veins.

Brian held the phone receiver to his ear, glancing over at the wall clock from where he lay. Five-thirty. Justin's flight would be leaving in a matter of hours.

He scowled, not happy to have caught himself thinking about it again. "Snap out of it, you pathetic idiot," he groused from his position on the floor. He'd laid himself out on the large pillows in the TV room, and he'd stayed there since lunch that afternoon. His symptoms were getting worse and lying down was the only thing that sounded amenable to him at this point. So, he was conducting his affairs from the living room floor.

"_Hello? Brian, is that you?" _The voice that came through the phone sounded confused, ostensibly having heard the brash man's words of self-derision. _"Brian?"_

"Yes, it's me," Brian answered swiftly, hitting the phone's speaker function and laying it to his side. He couldn't really take loud noises so close to his face right now. "Cynthia, I need to take some time off. I need you to make sure everything in the office runs smoothly while I'm gone." Brian didn't have to listen closely to know that the noises he was hearing over the line were of his devoted assistant grabbing pen and paper.

"_Okay Brian. Well the next conference for the Tropica account was scheduled for tomorrow, so I'll shift that to Wednesday, and the interdepartmental meeting can be set back to Thursday if it has to—"_

"No," Brian interrupted, closing his eyes in fatigue. "No Cynthia, I'm not taking a sick day. I'm taking time off."

A pause. _"Um, right. So push them to Thursday and Friday?"_ When Brian didn't answer, the woman gasped, _"Jesus Brian, Longer? How long? You never take off."_

"I thought now would be an excellent time to start," he quipped dryly. "Two weeks, minimum."

"_Two weeks!"_

"Minimum."

Her scoff crackled over the phone's speaker. _"What on earth kind of fuck fest is there that takes two weeks! Even Australian Mardi Gras wouldn't—"_

"It's personal," the dark-haired man muttered, cutting her off. Of course he couldn't have expected her _not _to think that's what this was about. "Just trust me when I say that I need the time. It's very important. Non-negotiable." From his horizontal position on the pillows, Brian ran his hands through the sweat-damp strands of his hair. "Tell Ted he's in charge until I'm back."

"_And what am I supposed to tell him when he freaks out over the stress, huh? What—or who—am I supposed to tell him you're doing for these two 'non-negotiable' weeks?" _Cynthia sounded downright stressed herself. _"Brian you're the head of Kinnetic. The entire staff is going to flip. Where am I supposed to tell everyone you've gone off to this time? Miami? Ibiza?"_

"Tell them…" Brian grimaced a smile at the arched wood of the loft's ceiling, somehow finding absurd humor in his response of, "Tell them I've gone to rehab."

After the phone call, Brian got up from his pillows only long enough to fetch another cigarette from the coffee table, popping in a DVD while he was at it. The sound of the lighter permeated the apartment as he lit up, the beginning credits to _Dallas Buyer's Club _running across the television. Brian saluted the screen as if he was saluting Justin, muttering, "Finally watching your depressing-ass film," around the end of the cigarette. He'd call the rehab place after the movie, he decided. Maybe they'd even send some nice men in white coats to come cart him away.

He'd need it, because at the rate he was going Brian knew he wouldn't be able to drive himself safely for long. Justin had told him to call someone if the withdrawal got too bad to handle. Well it hadn't yet but the staunchly self-sufficient man could tell that it soon would. He'd dive muff before letting Michael and the rest of them see the situation he'd gotten himself into. But since he really didn't want to lick some woman's twat either, Brian figured that rehab was the next least painful option. If Ted ever found out about it though, there'd be sarcastic retribution of a level to which he'd never been subjected. The movie started, and Brian glanced the small collection of bottles, glasses, and ash tray stubs he had going on the floor.

Justin would have said it was evidence of his 'maladaptive coping patterns', or something totally bullshit like that. Brian tried not to think about how much he was probably going to miss the bullshit from now on. He'd been twitching like some junkie since two o'clock, so if the urge struck to pour another calming shot of liquid medicine down his throat every once and a while, he'd damn well do it.

The once-again reclined man exhaled a long drag as the movie's first scene of a dusty rodeo played out in front of him. Resignedly, Brian figured that they must not take too kindly to patients bringing in their own booze and drugs. It _was _rehab, after all. He sighed, watching as a tragically-skinny Matthew McConaughey cavorted with a couple of women onscreen. Oh well, maybe there'd at least be some hot male nurses or orderlies to fuck around with.

He fell asleep half way through the movie, wiped out from the liquor and the fatigue of his worsening symptoms. The only thing he dreamt about was Justin; dancing with all the pretty boys in L.A.


	30. Chapter 30

Justin had spent the night with Skyler in a local hotel. He hadn't wanted to go back to confront Evan just yet, and the wealthy human hadn't minded footing the bill for a double room at the Fairmont. But with his red-eye to L.A. due to depart in less than four hours, Justin knew he'd have to return to the studio to gather his things. So he'd gotten a ride from Skyler, the man's Porsche slowing to a crawl near the end of the block. There were police lights flashing everywhere.

Skyler was straining his head to try and see why the street had been sectioned off. "Jesus, is this normal?"

"Little bit," Justin mumbled. He didn't exactly live in the most gentrified section of Pittsburgh. "It's probably just one of the neighbors' domestic squabbles again," he excused, moving to get out of the car. "I can walk over from here. Thanks for the ride, and the bag." At his friend's worried gaze, the blonde vampire assured, "I'm sure it's fine. I'll call you when the flight lands."

"Yeah," Skyler drew his distracted gaze back to the man whom he'd fucked, then killed, then befriended. It was funny how things worked out sometimes. "Yeah, let me know when you're set up. I'll visit."

"You're just counting on me being able to hook you up with some closet A-listers."

He winked. "You know it."

The man pulled away shortly after that, Justin waving one last time before turning to regard the mess that his residential street had become. He stepped forward, ready to see just what all the fuss was about.

It was about Evan. Or really, it was more about the human—dead now—than it was about Evan.

The police had set up two patrol cars across the street from Justin's building, an ambulance was parked haphazardly right by the front doors. And several additional squad vehicles seemed to have joined the action late, parked further down the street. Justin approached cautiously as he began to realize that the number of law enforcement officials milling around meant that whatever was happening was more than a simple case of domestic violence. He reached the first officer, who tried to stop him from going any nearer,

"I'm sorry son, but you'll have to back away."

"What's going on?"

"There's been a murder. Now why don't you go on home. We've got enough gawkers already."

"But I am home," the blonde complained. "This is my building. I have to go up and get my things I have a flight to catch."

The cop seemed to change his stance at the information. He hesitated, but eventually nodded and let him pass. "Watch your step as you go," he warned, indicating the riot of police tape and barriers that'd been put up. "Don't touch anything."

Justin nodded, re-shouldering the overnight bag that Skyler had gifted him. His mind was made up to head straight to the studio and pack his things, whether or not Evan was there to engage him in a confrontation, but the young vampire found his intentions unexpectedly sidetracked when he glanced over from the building's doorway to see a man seated and cuffed on the sidewalk curb. Justin belatedly realized that it was the vampire to whom he'd been introduced that first night out at _Babylon. _The one named Gavin who supplied Evan with groupies. The man made eye contact with him, before Justin realized that that wasn't the only person present with whom he was acquainted. Up ahead there stood a handcuffed Evan, a very serious-looking Aiden at his side.

"Aiden!" Justin called out the psychiatrist's name louder than intended, and it had both of the other vampires' attention focused on him in a millisecond. Evan looked like shit, and Aiden looked… tired. Justin walked over to where they stood in the thick of it all. "Aiden," he repeated, "Evan? You guys what's going on?" It was very clear that the wiry vampire was being detained for something. If the handcuffs weren't a dead giveaway, then the officer trying to manhandle him into the back of the nearest cruiser sure was. In another moment he'd succeeded, the door to the vehicle shutting down whatever Evan might have tried to say to them.

"Justin, I was wondering when you'd show up." Aiden tore his concerned gaze away from Evan to watch his youngest charge. "Evan said you were arrested two nights ago."

Blinking at the reminder, Justin nodded. "Uh, yeah. I was arrested but they're only considering filing charges so far."

The older man looked highly displeased. "I hope you've gotten yourself a lawyer."

"What? Oh, right. My friend Mel… Melanie Marcus is representing me." Justin's eyes scanned the nearby street distractedly. There was a man on a gurney being loaded into the ambulance. Someone else was still lying on the pavement, looking eerily still.

"Well you might want to recommend Ms. Marcus' services to Evan. He's going to need them."

Justin tore his eyes away from the scene. "What happened?" He'd only been gone for a day, for Christ's sake. How much trouble could his roommate have gotten into?

Aiden's features were tight as he answered, "It would seem that Evan and his friend, Gavin, played host to some human guests."

"We've done that before."

"Yes well this time it went badly. Seems there was a confrontation of sorts when one of the humans decided to leave sooner than Evan wanted."

Justin's breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat. _Oh no, _he thought, his mind flashing to the way Evan had treated the humans inside of _Thrall, _how he'd provoked the men outside afterwards. "What did he do?"

"I don't think he meant to kill anyone," Aiden was speculating, "but that's what happened." Glancing to the street, the handsome vampire nodded to the very still body that was lying there. "Broken neck."

"Holy… holy shit."

"The one in the ambulance has multiple contusions and lacerations consistent with a physical fight." Aiden shook his head angrily at the blonde before him. "Evan finally found his big thrill. I'm just glad you didn't end up a part of it."

Justin glanced to where the other man had placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder. A cold feeling swept over him at Aiden's words. Justin realized that, had he not pulled away from their adventure in _Thrall, _he very well could have been around to be a part of Evan's last 'big thrill'. He watched in shock as the other man in handcuffs—Gavin—was unceremoniously stuffed into the back of another police vehicle. Justin swallowed. That could've been him. Charges pending for simple assault suddenly looked damned rosy next to what Justin figured Evan had coming his way. He watched with a degree of regret, as his first friend post-change was driven away in the squad car.

Then his eyes slid over to where the still person lay on the ground. Justin hadn't considered the possibility that the person might be dead until just then. Didn't they always cover the bodies with blankets? That was always the way it seemed to go on television… But not here.

Justin stopped in his tracks from where he'd been approaching the person, eyes blinking in shock. Blonde hair even paler than his own fanned out as a white shock against the black of the asphalt, scuffs of skinned cheek and chin giving red splotches to the face. It was the face that had Justin gasping. He recognized that face.

It was Nathan. His grey eyes—one's that'd shone with such life when they'd danced together at _Babylon—_now stared out soullessly from his face. His head was turned at a wrong angle from his body. Justin shuddered at the chill that swept him. He'd danced with that man, been sucked off by him, _fed _from him. He'd been Justin's first…

"Justin?" The gaping blonde jerked at the light touch to his shoulder, and Aiden pulled gently, "Come on, you don't have to see all of this. Let's get you inside." Apparently Aiden understood how rattled the younger vampire was, because he led him considerately all the way up to the twelfth floor, never abandoning his comforting hold.

"I just can't believe it."

Justin was sipping at the cup of tea that Aiden had brewed for him, the other vampire nursing his own. He'd dumped his overnight bag by the front door, not yet having thought about the task of packing his possessions. Instead, both men stood by the kitchen counter that abutted the studio's large windows. The view to the street far below was mostly unobstructed, and they watched solemnly as the remaining police officers flitted around like agitated bugs, photographing and tagging every inch of the block.

"He was troubled," Aiden murmured. "In a way I'd always hoped that he wouldn't leave the home. As long as he was there, I could keep an eye on him." The dark-haired man glanced to the blonde whom he'd saved from death so recently. "It was doubly upsetting to me when he attached himself to you."

Justin smirked at the lip of his mug, sipping slowly. "Why? Because I was so special?"

"Yes. You were—are—so full of promise. He was a shell of a person."

"Hell of a thing to say about your own patient."

Aiden shrugged. "I'm not rejoicing. It's just the truth. You on the other hand…"

"I'm not so much better." Justin's voice came out forlornly. "Maybe worse."

"What? Justin that's not true! You're completely different. Adaptable, able to integrate, and well… fixable."

"But I'm not!" Justin had set his drink down, not finding whatever comfort in it that he was supposed to. He stepped agitatedly away from the window and the other man. "I haven't been able to remember anything Aiden. I haven't gotten better. And what small fragments of relationships I had with the people from my old life have pretty much been obliterated by… _this._"

" 'This'?" Aiden frowned. "But I thought you'd made progress? You told me that you wanted to go further! And Brian said—" he cut himself off at that, sudden change in facial expression showing that he knew he'd gone too far.

"Brian said?" Justin squinted at his creator and mentor, realization quickly dawning on his face. "You talked with him, didn't you?" Aiden didn't have to respond for Justin to know the answer. He shook his head in disbelief. "I should have figured. He knew too much about my circumstances, too much about everything." He scoffed again, "Fucking memory loss recovery methods. I should have known he'd get to you."

"He didn't 'get to me'. I… made my own choice to give him information that might help you. It was unethical and I shouldn't have done it. But I never meant to go behind your back," Aiden apologized. He didn't want to drive a wedge between himself and his youngest charge in this troubling time. "Justin I'm sorry if you think—"

"I don't think anything. I'm not upset. I don't really care at this point." He sighed, stepping over towards the couch and television. "It doesn't matter anymore anyways. I'm leaving."

"Leaving?"

Justin nodded, having come to stand in front of the easel that held Brian's long-procrastinated portrait. He stared at it, finding it ironic that he'd finally finished the portrait, just as he'd finished with the man himself. "I'm going to L.A. My flight leaves in a few hours."

"But Justin, that's such an upheaval!"

"Is it?" The blonde vampire blinked at his painting, wishing that he'd thought of something meaningful to do with it, someone to give it to. Now he'd have to leave it here to gather dust until he came back. If he ever came back. "It's not going to be any more difficult than lingering here," he continued. "This place, this whole entire place and the people in it; it's just a dream world." Justin's fingers thoughtfully traced the lips of his ex-lover on the canvas. "A dream that I thought I had once, but can't remember anymore."

"Justin I think it's a little rash to just cut and—" Aiden paused, staring down to the street once more as police lights began flashing again. "It looks like they're clearing out down there. Justin I think I should go down and ask if any of the officers need a statement from me, or from you. Will you be alright for… Justin?" Aiden noticed the lack of response he was getting. The blonde was still standing by his easel, but a quick glance told the older vampire that whatever he'd just said, Justin hadn't been hearing it. Justin's eyes were glued to the painting in riveted shock, and he stood stock still. "Justin?" Aiden repeated in confusion, hesitant to approach the frozen man. "Justin?" His words evoked no answer. Justin remained just as he'd been. It was as if he'd never seen the painting before in his life, with the way he looked at it.

It was as if he'd seen the face of God.

It was the lights that did it.

The blue and red lights from the myriad of police vehicles below came shining up to the studio's windows, magnified and scattered wildly through the glass. Like the lights of _Babylon_ they swarmed the room, transforming and transmuting. They swept across the furniture, the floors, the pale of Justin's own skin and hair, and they swept across the portrait of Brian. And that was exactly what did it.

Justin felt a jolt run through him as if he'd been dunked into cold water, the breath smashed out of him in one, overwhelming rush. He felt his world constrict violently fast, zooming in until all he could see was that canvas, that image of Brian with the red and blue lights pulsing over it. Brian's face, red and blue. Red and blue, and Brian staring right at him. There was something to that, there really was. But what? Justin's mind teetered on the edge of some unfathomable realization, and then he fell from the precipice, and everything came flooding back.

Brian, panicked and ash strewn from only a brief time in the thick of it all. The relief of a thousand worlds lifted from his shoulders as he caught sight of Justin standing there, alive. The feel of his body-crushing embrace, his panting breaths, his grasping hands. And the reflection of all the red and blue lights that slashed through the night to illuminate his crumpling features, as he breathed the only words that had ever mattered, and never been said:

"_I love you."_

Only to be repeated a second time, when Justin was already floating away on the first.

"_I love you."_

Justin's eyes widened as he stared blindly at the portrait, his mouth opening as if in a gasp as the memory of that fateful night outside of _Babylon_ came rushing back… with every solitary emotion attached to it.

A chain reaction was set off, and Justin left the room of the studio completely as he was sucked into some long-unused space in his mind. _Love. _Brian loved him. And the best words he'd ever heard ranked as such because… because_ he _loved_ Brian_. Every touch, every kiss, every soul-crushing embrace that he'd ever endured flashed by right in front of him as if a flipbook projected to astronomical proportions. And each memory was relived with the emotions that he'd been without for so long. In the apartment, Justin's eyes fluttered as if in seizure as the mental barrage kept on coming, every poignant moment bringing something new back:

There was Brian, finishing the Liberty ride with a grimace, his eyes determinately locked on Justin's own. There was Brian, weak from radiation and falling to the floor as they fought. There was Brian, holding him proudly as they opened Kinnetic. Brian, kissing him against propaganda posters. Brian, fucking him against beds and floors and walls. There was Brian throwing him out, taking him back, and allowing him to walk away with Ethan. Brian dancing with him at Pride. Brian guiding him through panic attacks. Brian dancing with him at prom. Taking his virginity. Taking him home.

There was Brian, rushing to him in the aftermath of the bombing and saying those words. Ash-strewn, terrified, and illuminated in red and blue police lights…

Justin blinked frantically at the multicolored portrait that reappeared before his very eyes, his world expanding outwards once again. He gasped, stumbling over his own feet as if he'd been physically tossed from the memories. Aiden was at his back in time to catch his fall, and the blonde could only breathe heavily while he regained his bearings. _Oh. my. god. _It was back. All of it.

"Justin, what the hell—"

The handsome vampire hardly had the chance to voice his baffled concerns before the man in his arms was pushing away to stand on his own two feet. "I remember," he shot out, eyes fixed to where the painting—merely a simple painting once again—stood before him. The blue and red lights were still swimming across it, but they did nothing to him now. The trigger was over, and Justin was whole once again. He stared a moment longer before realizing what he had to do. Swallowing, he nearly ran for the apartment's door, no mind paid to the overnight bag abandoned there. No mind paid to the boarding pass hidden beneath the microwave.

"Justin, wait! What are you doing?"

He glanced back to Aiden, to the man who had always told him that he'd be able to recoup what he'd lost. "You were right," Justin said breathlessly. "And I have to go. I have to go!" He rushed out the door before any other words could be exchanged, and Aiden watched in growing suspicion of what had just occurred. All he knew was that he hoped that suspicion was true. And all Justin knew as he practically flew down the eleven flights of stairs and out onto the street, was that he had to get to Brian and tell him. Every second that passed before he could end this—this miserable odyssey they'd both had to endure for months—was a second he couldn't stand.

Justin had never tested out the theory of whether he could run clear across Pittsburgh at a twelve mile an hour pace. That night he did.


	31. Chapter 31

Justin came to a halt, gasping a little at the exertion of having sprinted so far. Even vampires had their limits, it turned out.

He'd run clear across the city, through all the urban sludge that had once been snow, and now he'd arrived on the sidewalk in front of Six Fuller Court. He stared upwards to the loft's windows, frowning when he saw how dark the apartment looked. But the corvette was parked outside on the street, so the vampire took hope that Brian hadn't gone out that night. It was imperative that he find the other man as soon as possible!

He took the stairs up, heart near to bursting as he climbed. And he slid the loft's door open without a thought for knocking. What he'd come to say was too important for knocking, after all.

Inside, the loft was just as dark as it'd appeared from the street. The smell of cigarette smoke hit Justin as he timidly stepped inside. Taken aback by the lack of light, Justin blinked into the dim space as his eyes struggled to discern the shapes from the shadows in front of him. His lips parted to say something along the lines of, _Hello? _But he cut himself off at the sight of Brian, laying across those famously huge pillows in the living room.

Before he could bring himself to speak, a woman's voice rang out, sounding slightly mechanical in the air. She sounded as if she'd just picked up from a larger conversation,

"… _well I'm sorry Mr. Kinney, but um… love is not a mental disorder nor an addiction. We don't treat that here."_

"I don't think you understood me correctly; I'm talking about the vampire part of it." Although if she could break him of the former as well, he'd have been much obliged.

"_Yes well, I've never heard of that being an issue in so far as—"_

"Lady trust me: it's an issue. What exactly _DO _you treat?" Brian interrupted. He sounded frustrated, and maybe like he had a headache, if the way he was rubbing his temple with his eyes closed was anything to go by. Justin took a careful step closer as he surmised that his lover was talking to someone over a speakerphone.

"_Alcohol addiction, Benzodiazepine abuse, Crack—"_

"Crack?! Christ, don't Pittsburgh's richest and gayest have anything more dignified to get fucked up on these days? I thought you people were running a quality homo resort."

"_Sir?" _The woman sounded very confused by the attitude of the call she'd received.

Brian opened his eyes, the slight movement of his intruder jarring him from the conversation. He stared at Justin unblinkingly as the woman continued to prattle on about the highlights of the _Shadyside Gentlemen's Rehabilitation Spa_, oblivious that she'd lost her audience of one. Hazel eyes stuck to the form of the younger man in his apartment, Brian hurriedly murmured, "…Never mind. I'll check myself in tomorrow. Make any necessary charges to the card I gave you." He'd reached to end the call before the woman could utter another word. "Justin," he ventured slowly, suddenly hyperaware of the position he was in. Half-naked and sweaty, disheveled and laying haphazardly on the floor, the normally dignified executive couldn't restrain an internal wince at the younger man seeing him this way. He tried to take a deep breath to steady himself. "What are doing here?"

"I… came back," the blonde uttered lamely. He hadn't expected to find Brian so sick so soon. It had sort of made him forget the grand speech he'd planned. He lingered where he stood.

"'You came back'." Brian quoted, staring through the darkness as if he was trying to figure out what the words meant. "Well that's just grand. Why aren't you on a plane right now?"

Justin was going to answer, but whatever he might have uttered was cut off by the darker man's wince of pain. "Brian? What's wrong?" He stepped even closer.

"What do you think?" he gritted through clenched teeth, trying to sit up but failing as a tremor wracked his body. He flopped back down to the pillows, and Justin rushed over. "I'm fine," he barked, before that statement was completely undermined by another cry of pain. "Ah, fuck! This is… _fuck."_

Justin was on the floor beside him, unable to stop his hands from cradling the pained man's face. It was like a knife through his heart to see the strong man he'd loved for so long, in pain like this. The knife was only twisted by the fact that he knew he'd been the cause of it. "Let me help you." Justin didn't stop to remember that Brian had no clue about his regained emotions. He felt only rejection as the larger man shrugged him off,

"I said I'm fine!" he grunted, panting as whatever wave had come over him, passed. He looked exhausted, and wary of the blonde being so close. "Justin, you don't have to do this. I told you I can handle it."

"Obviously you can't!" Justin nearly cried. "I had no idea this would be like this. So bad so soon."

A humorless chuckle escaped Brian's lips, "Me neither. This is fucking worse than the cancer."

"Really?"

"Not really, but close," he amended. He hadn't yet thrown up. Yet. There was sweat beaded along his brow, and he used every ounce of willpower within him not to flinch as the concerned blonde reached to smooth the messy strands of his hair back. "I called a place," he offered quietly, hoping that it would stop Justin from feeling the need to touch him like this. "Forget Betty Ford. This place is the _Passages, _Malibu for every well-off fag on the east coast."

Justin pursed his lips. "Sounds fabulous."

"So I'll be fine. You don't have to be here. Just go on and… what are you doing?" The kid had stood, but not to leave as Brian had hoped. He fiddled in the kitchen then the bathroom, before returning with ice and a towel. "Oh, jeeze. Justin stop…" The blonde steadily ignored him, sitting again to place his things down and take up the older man's arm. "_What_ are you doing?" Brian snapped.

There was no acknowledgement of his bitter tone, only Justin calmly holding his hand in his lap, using his own thumb to rub calming circles into the other man's palm as the makeshift ice pack was applied to his forehead. "You know," he said quietly, "I remember when you used to do this for me."

"Oh, back when you were an addict?" Brian snapped.

"_No. _After the bashing, when you'd rub my hand because it would seize up so badly. Do you remember?"

Brian turned his head away as much as he could without making the ice pack fall off. "I guess."

"You'd lay me down—sometimes in bed, sometimes on the couch if it was still too early to sleep, and you'd rub and rub." He smiled lightly, uncaring of the other man's callous attitude. It wasn't as if he hadn't dealt with a defensive, ornery Brian before. "For minutes, or hours. Didn't matter. You'd just continue for as long as it took until all the tendons and muscles relaxed. Until you put me right again." Justin relived the memory with a heavy heart himself, all the times that Brian had steadfastly cared for him in that time of need making him want to grab the other man close and never let him go. For the moment, he somehow refrained. Leaning in so that their faces were close, so that Brian was forced to regard him, Justin murmured, "You've been putting me right again for a long time. Now it's my turn to do the same for you."

Brian blinked at him, but remembered to scowl after only a second's hesitation. He couldn't allow himself to show any sign of capitulation here. The kid would just leave again anyways. He _was _leaving, in only an hour or two. "What are you talking about?" he said, "Did you forget something here? Your shoes? That AIDS movie?—which by the way was completely depressing. Why are you here?"

"Brian—" Justin tried to speak,

"You've got a flight to catch Princess."

"Brian I—"

"So while I appreciate the last ditch attempt at playing nursemaid,"

"Ugh, _Brian—"_

"I really don't need your pity or your help. I'm handling all of this well enough on my own. Scout's honor." He held up his infamously-incorrect scout's salute.

"Brian!" Justin had to raise his voice to get a word in edgewise. "The boy scout salute has _three_ fingers! …And I'm not leaving."

Brian was still pushing him away defensively, refusing to show weakness despite his compromising position. "Yeah right. You're going to miss your flight. L.A.'s calling, remember?"

Justin tried to impart seriousness into his tone as he said, " Brian: I remember."

"I should hope so; you booked it! Don't come crying to me to reimburse you for the ticket. This is all on you if—

"Brian!" Justin had had enough. He couldn't stand it anymore. Perhaps his frantically-imploring tone finally caught the other man's attention, because he quieted enough for Justin to repeat, this time in the most significant voice he could muster, "I. REMEMBER."

Brian stared, then his eyes slowly widened in comprehension. "Wha? …Shit."

Justin smirked a little, "Is that all you have to say?"

It wasn't all he wanted to say, that was for sure. There was shock painted on Brian's face, but not disbelief, never that. The pained man could tell from the newfound depth to his Sunshine's eyes, that what he said was true. Gone were the iceberg eyes that held no understanding, now replaced by the love that Brian hadn't realized he'd so desperately needed, until he'd lost it. Justin was waiting expectantly for what he'd say or do, and Brian licked dry lips trying to think of something, anything else to say. "H—how?" he finally stuttered, baffled as to what could have been the final piece of the puzzle. The puzzle that he himself had been trying to solve for so long.

But the blonde didn't answer his question. Instead a million-watt smile split Justin's face, his features crumpling at the edges as if he might cry, too. He exhaled shakily in relief, lowering swiftly to meld their mouths together. Brian was unprepared for the level of unadulterated emotion that was poured into that kiss, but he readily accepted it. _Fuck 'how', _he thought as he struggled to hold the other man's face close. He could always find that out later.

Justin kissed Brian, feeling his heart swell to near painful proportions. He kissed Brian with all that he had, drowning in the sea of his returned feelings for this person, this one man to whom he wanted to show everything, give everything, be everything. He'd always felt that way, of course, but remembering now was as agonizing as it was wonderful. Their lips crashed in the desperate attempt to communicate what a thousand words couldn't say fast enough, and Justin sighed in elation because he knew from the prone man's answering embrace that he understood, that he accepted him back. Everything was going to be okay.

Well, almost everything. As Brian's motions slowed, the blonde pulled back, sharing breath between them as he smiled in relief. But then he realized that Brian wasn't smiling back at him. The young man pulled back, frowning at the handsome brunette's countenance. "Brian?" The lack of response from the other man had Justin blinking in surprise. "Oh, no."

He'd completely passed out.

Justin had helped him to the bed. That'd been the first step after he'd regained consciousness on the living room floor.

Brian lay propped against his pillows, feeling so much better than he thought he would by now. He tried to tidy his hair a little, to smooth out the creases of the tee-shirt Justin had gotten him, before the younger man returned from the bathroom. "You coming Sunshine?" he asked, excited to realize that he'd no longer be chastised for using the old nickname.

"I'm right here." Justin walked the short distance back to the bed, perching himself on the side of where Brian lay. In his hand he held a glass of water and two aspirin, which he quickly offered over. "Drink," he urged.

Brian did as told, too wiped out from earlier to complain about being waited on like this. Once he'd set the glass aside, he released a sigh, sinking back into his pillows. _Their pillows. _"It's going to happen again," he said. "In three days, or four."

"I'll be here in three days. Or four," Justin added.

Brian nodded. He had to resist the urge to run a hand up to his neck, where he knew another bite mark had joined the first. "It'll add up," he complained, not wanting to imagine himself like the humans he'd seen in _Thrall. _He was a very public figure, after all. He had an image to maintain.

Justin shrugged. The offer of rehab was still on the table, Brian knew that. "You know how fast it'll heal. I can bite in exactly the same spot, or find somewhere else on your body…"

Brian raised a haughty eyebrow at the smaller man. "I'll bet you could."

"It's up to you," Justin concluded, climbing up on the bed to join his newly-regained lover. He laid his head on Brian's shoulder, aware that the other man probably needed _some _way to feel superior right about now. Brian had never liked feeling like the one who was out of control in a situation, so Justin kindly put forth, "I know you can handle both. You're the strongest person I know." Brian offered no protest to the statement, and Justin smiled fondly.

Brian secretly agreed. No one else would have come this far with such a trial. The tired yet satisfied man pulled his partner to his side, enjoying the feel of his warmth. He almost thought that Justin felt more pliant in his arms, as if regaining his emotional memories had somehow rid him of a tenseness that he'd been holding onto. Brian could literally feel the difference in him. The thought that this was the end of it, that they'd finally reached the conclusion of their largest struggle, made him happier than he'd felt in a long time. "Promise me something," he said quietly.

"Hmm?" Justin slid over, sitting with a leg to either side of Brian's lap. "What?"

"Stay with me. And don't leave again," he breathed, not daring to do more than whisper it against Justin's lips. The last time he'd implored the vampire to stay, it hadn't gone so well after all. "Promise."

Justin's shoulders sank, his lashes fanned to his cheeks as he closed his eyes. Brian may have thought it looked like internal deliberation, but what it really was, was humor at how easy the request was. The kiss he offered as he leant forward into Brian was gentle, but resolute. "I promise," he whispered back. "You have no idea how much."

Brian seemed satisfied by the answer, but Justin was denied his lips a moment longer as the darker man touched their foreheads together. "And I want to hear you say it," he demanded, asking for the words he'd never understood before. "Say it."

Justin's fingers curled against Brian's shoulder, his lips parting to gladly give what he'd _never _thought Brian would request. "I love you."

"Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again."

Justin smiled. "I love you, Brian."

Brian drew him impossibly closer, tighter. "Now, _again_." Only this time it was clear that it wouldn't be said with words. Justin didn't hesitate, kissing him deeply.

And when Brian reached to pull his shirt off, Justin didn't stop him, merely lifting his arms. They shed their clothes slowly, as if each layer removed was another barrier peeled away forever. Justin breathed against the shell of Brian's ear, encouraging him with soft words as their hands sought out each other's bodies, touching each expanse of skin with newfound reverence. Brian threaded fingers through the hair that would soon need cut again, while Justin kissed apologies to the bite mark he'd made. And it went on and on like that, the silence between them irrelevant, because they were both saying so much despite it.

It was slow, and not at all in their usual style of lovemaking. If he had thought about it before, when he'd been frantically running across the city to reach Brian and _tell _him, Justin would have guessed that their coming together again would be much the same as that mad dash; frantic, desperate, needy and hurried because of it. But as it turned out, their passion played out as the exact opposite. And for once, Justin was on the same page as Brian when it came to slower being better. In his own way, each man now realized what they had, their time without it making it that much more valuable. And as Brian's arms wrapped around Justin's back to guide their bodies together, they knew without speaking that they were in complete agreement.

They would savor this.


End file.
